In A Distant Place
You feel
a separation while in the forest.
Traveling while standing still.
A blue brain moving
thoughts like jig-saw pieces,
surrounded by ghosts of mice.
Ambivalently separated,
with chewed corners, and long johns.
Standing on this mountain,
above a mile of dinosaur bones,
I feel the separation too.
There is a growing distance in crowded spaces.
Anxious shouting and laughter decay
into my spiraling thoughts,
and the faint sucking
sounds from the leeches.
When long periods of time
pass alone with the forest,
the forest stays with you.
Formalities are left behind for nature’s song
and the dancing of leaves.
Spiders woven patterns
distract flapping moths and beetles
with delicacy.
I am separated by waves of grace and majesty,
Almighty hell and H. E. hockey sticks of hickory.
These thoughts flicker in places of the sesame.
Separate paths dancing in synecdoche.
Nature and wonder caress me
down
trails.
Shadows.
Grooves and ripples.
~*~
Bryan Utesch grew up in the Midwest. His favorite poets are Ezra Pound and Hilda Doolittle. He currently resides in Boulder, Colorado. You can read more of his work on his website.
Featured image by Annie Spratt
Punch Drunk Press 