Author Joseph Heywood
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Cutting Trail
[Deer Park, October 14, 2013]

Neither tracks on ground nor scents in air
Cutting signs of this critter requires
Earworms, intuition blasts, inner
Thought, full, self-dwelling absorption
Stalking inner spoor lacking vapor trails,
More unseen pulses in the heart-brain,
Transposing, translating honing
Dullthots, scratching for shiny metaphor.
Turning blurred distant images
From unseen to bright mushroom clouds
As they rise unseen across innerstates
From creation to revelation, first to me
Then through me, I am made conduit
Expressing ink marks on paper
Thence made real to be surgically
Shaped, shortened, cut back until
The thing made from nothing stands alone
Between itself only creator,
Readers sitting with tucked in napkins
Served fare on a paper platter
To be consumed, embraced
Swallowed or rejected outright
Like vomelets passed in trays
To tourists on bargain air lines.


 
 
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