Tuesday, June 8, 2010

More Sticks

More Sticks

It seems reassuring
that those of us in certain industries
will always have work.

Hair will continue
to seep from the scalp, will need
to be scissored, to be taken.

In fact, after death
if our bodies remain whole then
the strands keep seeping,

growing in the ground
like the skinny roots of a plant.
Landscapists, too, have

an enviable occupation.
They ease the weed from the choke hold
it has on soil, pull away

dry or decaying leaves,
clear the sticks that have collected.
The landscapist’s lack

of sadness in bundling
debris at the close of the work day
soothes, On land,

there is no shortage
of things needing to be looked after,
requiring careful paring.

There are bulbs to be
planted. There are always more sticks
to round up and carry away.


  1. I hope there will always be bulbs to be planted, and sticks to carry away. Your poem about the birds and the oil is still influencing my thoughts.


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