Zeke Hudson

forced perspective

(for LB)

*

begin

like moss moving

with water

& beet red sun

*

dirt pinnacle under frost

steps carved into hillsides like

notched bones

moments where

at the peak

all songs can be heard

& sung

chorus of cloud

distant

from the crest

*

my ancestors brought tools

& i will return my father’s flesh

to a tree

granite cold

in shivering daylight

last words

/ second chances

*

uncovered over millennia

pikes

concrete

shattered

tibia

green creeps back into the horizon

downhill

toward a tumbledown shelter

lazy water wanders

& pools where

drunk writers once echoed

a song about

the past

*

the sign read WARNING

before

letters crumbled like

lost little ants

behind

dust

the color skin was

*

upturned

jagged bottles jut

packing soil

oozed like mud

burnt green bodices

overflow sloppy mutations

yellowed stalks

swollen leaves swept

across fallout

where the west ends

still lives our touch

fingerprints

burned into fallen tree trunks

colorless painted oils

Zeke Hudson is... he's uh... well, he's usually much better at writing bios. This one's a real clunker. You can see some of his better bios in Wend Poetry, Nightblock, and Banango Street, or in his chapbook from Thrush Press. Sorry everyone.