Author Information
Telephone Pole Blues pt. I: Overture
Folder:
Early Writings The telephone pole trail flows,
Living on and on and on…
It knows to travel every road
For the concrete knows the way
To another beginning another hello
Knows the way to heaven
But the telephone pole will never know
These infinite starting lines
Looking at the real trees
Free from a wire leash
The telephone pole trail never ends
Never knows its roots
It sees the scattered forests
So jealous of the blooming life
Sleeping soundly
In the layers of her bark, her skin her fur
In the marrow or her morrows
Her yesters, her bones
Telephone pole sits, stares
With concentrating interest
It stares into her eyes, into her gender
Like peering down a hole of curiosity
Like beating bricks in staring contests
The telephone pole trail’s hollow
Lack of life, lack of fuzzy, steamy breath
Huffing out, like the joggers
On the concrete paths to nowhere
To those old beginnings,
As an ending slowly stops her screws
Screeches to a screaming halt
Telephone pole trail watches
Observes the life in the jogger’s legs
In the diesel joints
Dashing through a wind of horsepower
It descends its tired head to sleep
Pressing out a gandering flock of tears
Briny like the concrete floors they splash upon
Frosty like the trickling air.
