Tuesday, September 16, 2014

from Above Ground, Below Ground

The  series of  poems for my collaboration with artist Elaine Leigh, Above Ground Below Ground, is getting its  final brush up.

This poem refers to the spookiness of the clusters of trees that often grow  around stone circles; even now the old superstitions weigh on those who would trespass after dark.

Inside the trees
is another place: unlit, uncharted.
At night even braggers refuse to enter
those grotesque tunnels.

At night boulders walk,
boughs flex their biceps;
high up, screeching necks
toss slicks of hair;

even the summer wind
squeals through like a hunted pig.
After dark  the trees stir cauldrons
of brains and guts.


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