Wood and Severed Heads

2020 Gad Zooks



It was a morning of sorts

Made of wood and

Severed heads.

They'd walked along the canal

That night and spoke

Of witches’ tales and

Genealogical unveilings,

That he was son of a Jew

Living in silence of his birthright,

Heads rolling and a

Crucifix attached to stone walls.

The day at noon couldn’t compare,

So they made love

To ease the pain.

Why did you reach out then

Speaking of your lost maturity?

Why did you break

Your silence?

Hearing a deeper thought than your own

It manifested and malignified

In your heart to

Bring the disconnected head

Down to the air around your life.

Speak, do it and frighten it off.

Sonorously, the echoes of the caravan

Vibrate so intensely

You organize in shame,

And disappear again above the canal

Bobbing w corpses and body bags,

deep depravity knows deep despair,

To keep yourself alive-feelings,

Stubbed life, on the corner of failure,

Heaped in piles of excrement.

It was a morning

Of severed heads

 And wood.

This next I have posted already but may have been edited I found these two poems i must have written together.




Manure on the highway

Out of time and flattened

Seeping up through the concrete

Not meant to be there

A veil, a hidden era to penetrate

Out of time, out of sequence

Out of touch

With life.


The solidifier of time, life.

Her roots, back thru the concrete,

Corroded his tenure on living

And he conceded to her,

Crumbled and aged in the midst

Of ruin

Sepia veiled

Rubber grooved, tired.


Going on was not an option

Staying still was not the plan

But tethered in the dystrophy

Was not a hopeful place

The bones ached with displeasure

The eyes watered with weeping

Birdlike the hobbled man



Age and temperament

Cannot be discussed

Cannot be reasoned

Hatred deeply seeping

No resolve no resolve

Hatred bleeding

All the good

From your heart


Author's Notes/Comments: 

I think this is the beginning of a long verse Place holding it here.  Help me understand what I was trying to say.  Sometimes I just write to hear the words but like an ink spott could mean something


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Starward's picture

The section designated II,

The section designated II, but first in the vertical placement, is very, very eerie.  A huge backstory is implied between the lines, and makes me want to read more, as sequel or prequel, that leads from, or up to, this initial poem.  


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djtj's picture

You are Kind

You are so kind in your critiques to me.  A kind way to say I am not quite getting this, l want to read something before or after.  I think I am intending this as a long poem and this is a chapter.  I found this in a notebook and  wanted to save it because, true I do have a back story developing.  I read this poem to my lover and I could tell he was searching for a WTF statement what does it mean.  So I pulled out my Well Susan Sontag says in her essay...blah blah content over blah blah blah We laughed cuz right now its just some eerie words and I don't really rememeber what Susan Sontag said...You always get to the point of my work  in your comments and I am pleased and honored when you read and leave me a note.  I will work on the backstory.