13,719. TO DUST A TREE LIKE A LIMERICK FACE

TO DUST A TREE LIKE 

A LIMERICK FACE

With capital stitches and some leftover

lace, the world grows lightly, a pretty

place. There's a value here even in garbage

and I've watched the artist climbing the

hills to retrieve tiny objects and stones.

History is not written by memory but

but men.

-

Stevedores and freightliner guys. The

truck-stop whores patrolling the lot, while

small tyrants are fueling their rigs. Men

start to talk about where they're headed

or where they've been. I sit at a table

outdoors, with a coffee that tastes

like their fuel.

-

Sometimes the world really is just cruel.