Saturday, February 2, 2008

Worksite Poem

A few folks have requested more poems from my prehistory -- I came across this one looking for some scrap paper, figured it was a sign.

For a while, I was working on a series of poems all written during breaks at work. Most were written sitting in the work van. This is one.


Worksite -- Boring, Oregon

If finned animals were swimming
down this hot asphalt street,

and if the parrot squawking inside the house there
was a tiny woman in a napolean coat
vexing an absent husband,

then I'd know this was a dream.

As it is --
wind curling around my ankles,
tarpaper softening in the sun,

I'm temporarily convinced otherwise.



stingite said...

one of my favorites of yours, B.

Bpaul said...

I must confess, it's so hard to post these without all sorts of disclaimers etc. I have to bite my tongue and sometimes even erase them every time I post.

matt_stansberry said...

Man. No disclaimers needed.

Bpaul said...

Why thank you sir.