porn-a-thon

i mean, poem-a-thon! sorry to get you all excited in the pants...

but! i'm taking an online poetry class this quarter (yes, again) and so every week i will be posting a poem that i have written. exciting, eh?

here's a rough draft of my firsty: (i'll post the final when it's done)

We have lived and survived

unlike our buried kin.

But the bridge collapsed and buckled

In upon ourselves.

The cement rains across the waters

And the panicked fish.

Our bridge has collapsed and sank

To the river's feet.

The beaver makes herself at home

Within our wreckage.

And her kit will stare with big brown eyes

At our mess.

The water's damned just like our fortune

And tethered minds.

The wind will pull my words to you

Farther down the stream.

We'll stand in silence with the bulrush tall

We won't say anything.

Then the crippled man will fish no more

He'll go on home.

To the wife he's kept and the home he's built

With his bare hands.

They'll rock in chairs, holding hands

For another sixty years.

The trusses rust in a faint orange glow

We've killed everything.

And the bird in flight closed his eyes

But nothing reappeared.


ps: aol just informed me that cindy mccain (john's wifey) is the heiress to anheuser-busch. totes ewwwwwwww!