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So, yes, we're slowly settling into this funny little town, which means that we have to start behaving more like the fair-trade-coffee-drinking, terrible-colour-combination-wearing hippies that it knows we are in our heart of hearts. Which means that it's time to write some poetry. Actually, these are just a few forgotten short poems I came across in notebooks I was unpacking. I kind of like them, but don't ask me what the heck they mean.
I
I have seen celebrity faces
Whither, pucker, fade from view;
My own hair, slowly silvering
And brittle, falling. I have seen
The taut skin of the paper birch
Punctured by rodent teeth, its sweet
Molasses flesh exposed and left
To poke through fields of snow.
II
Oh children of the meadowlark,
Forever stabbing in the dark,
Deny us not your knives.
You can't begin to comprehend
The lands we seek, the time we spend
Rehearsing our own lives.
III
There was a time
When a sunrise lasted all day long.
Maybe some day, long after we're dead,
They'll notice our trash
And, when they let the wind blow through,
Perhaps remember us.
The earth knows what time it is
Even if the seeds don't,
But you and your family
Are poison to me.
- Andrew
1 comment:
love the poems! - johanna
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