Stolen Wallpaper

Words but a whisper, deafness a shout

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Location: Zeeland, Michigan, United States

Hi. I wish I had a job selling squirrels. They're so furry, and give you toothy grins. Unless they're rabid, in which case they will eat your face off and then find the rest of your family. That's not so good, I guess.

Friday, June 09, 2017

School Section Lake

The only thing I’ve written between college and now that was any damn good. Its old web site vanished, so putting it up here.
Fearless in one way, terrified in most others
He points the nose of the car at the North Star
White lines zip by like Minute Rice
Heat on, window rolled down
Occasionally slapping himself in the face to keep alert
Gaylord, Grayling, Wolverine, Vanderbilt
Towns built by men who did great works
Hewing and hauling great logs for great endeavors
In a time before consquences were more than dimly understood
Floated down rivers to be subsumed into society
An unseen labor, like making sausage or sewing flags
Best not to think about cocooned by weak modernity
Trees trees trees mailbox trees trees trees dirt sidetrack trees
What was once logged over is now again impenetrable
Nature and 1929 teaming up to reclaim their dues
Fresh gravestones two miles from any lonely outpost home
History rolls past unceasing, but genealogy shudders and jerks
2009 on the road, 1972 on blocks in a front yard
Abandoned trailers: the second or third wave of northern failure
But at least up here you smell pine more than motor oil
He slows down, flicks the brights, squints at the street signs
Finds his turn and leaves the wider world behind
Grass growing in the middle of the “road,” tickling his muffler
Pin straight thanks to Herculean surveys that were overly optimistic
But eventually impassable to the new order
Trees closer, crickets louder, stars bright
But here is the white sign that says “White Sign”
And here is the nearly forgotten cottage on a nearly forgotten pond
And here are the ways and means to be a bit more yourself
Than these days of Apple and Amazon will usually allow
The cot creaks concernedly but holds
He sleeps with fire in his eyelids, like his ancestors did
And for an evening finds peace


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