Neighbors
join me at the stone’s throw
barroom, we’re talking homesick
blues. Thriving inside the rain, dogs
train people to walk this city block.
“How much shock could a body take?”
the Coastal Redwood moans.
You’ve never known softer ground,
passing below celestial spokes,
post-holing through loam. Worm
mounts boot - an inverted Dune.
Crow, you’ve been in my dreams,
have I been in yours? Eagle weaves a
woman with a fish and a feather
into its flag.
I’m starting to sound like a broken record - but I think I’m getting closer to something. These poems tend to serve as a bit of a recap of things I’ve seen and thought about in a given week … I know it’s a lot of trees but, well… I see a lot of trees. I’m continuing to live with this question of how to give non-human beings agency in writing. I found a few entry points in this one - all of which made me smile in one capacity or another.
We have a neighbor (a frequent visitor of the bar in this poem) whose dog recently passed away and he still goes on walks at the same time of day.
The people of Dune ride sandworms :)
Two small Bob Dylan references in this one - “homesick blues” is borrowed from Subterranean Homesick Blues and I’ve always loved the lines below from Talking World War III Blues, which is interpolated in the poem as well:
“Half of the people can be part right all of the time
Some of the people can be all right part of the time
But all of the people can't be all right all of the time
I think Abraham Lincoln said that
I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours
I said that”
Thanks, as always, for reading.