green man early days

Nov 6, 2009

this time you sit in the inner ring
of a little village shura, elders nodding, nodding,
offering this and that for this and that, promises, deals
steaming from teacups and rising smoke rings.

harvest is coming in, stinking sap, somnambulant
a razor cuts poppy heads, sticky peace, shady;
November’s poppies, here and there, make their way
from earth’s bittersweet bed, so beautiful, so deadly.

o green man in the desert
your chin beardless, you are so beautiful,
your hands capable of love and death,
like our winter here, one great longing,

we hang onto every telephone ring, every txt.,
every knock on the door, every car up the drive,
offering this and that for this and that, promises, deals
steaming from coffee cups, our fresh lit cigarettes.