"LAND USE" - John P. Wares




"LAND USE" - John P. Wares


Time is dragged out. Long. A lot of potential. 
Lets go night build a trail 
with a Subaru and a shovel.
The shirts unbutton on lower limbs
and fragments of glass reflect 
what was back then and now is gone
layers of what we call now become then
society ends as the architect.
Taproot after cutting so deep around, 
rogue hoe in big swings
Dirt flung left and back
And the attachment, long tooth,
Reaches for the creek that has run
Longer than we can count 
and through more people's lives. 
Cotton fields, train hands, 
homeless, homestead. 
House burned and collapsed. 
Roads swung past. 
Train gone. 
Woods get thick. 
Televisions abandoned, 
toys and mattresses dumped. 
Dogs walk and discovered 
by new pathways, 
we dig down to the mineral 
and leave rust ribbons 
through flowering woods. 
Sawtooth yucca, 
magnolia, privet, pine. 
This stump will need a saw, 
blade into clay, 
to come away clean. 
For the long term, we think: 
another layer is still coming. 
And then:
Not the same as riding boxcars
But this path requires the gap
Between trains and bulls
A vigilance for trespass
The shared utility with beer drinker
Can huffer, night fucker. 
And it shimmers with blackberry,
Web, possum print, ivy. 
It sticks to you. The day ends and
Red blood has identity
Feeling the next day 
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Pack life into life
Not three years on a toilet,
not if you can help it:
Shit outside when you can. 


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