Poem 140

thoughts on food as i move closer and closer to organic

 

So much of my youth comes back to a cornfield in Iowa.

In the heartland where my father farmers knew

That all mouths are the same shape on the inside.

& we would feed them corn and soy.

& the beef of 10,000 cattle in a single bite.

& we would bend the boars together and slice them

paper thin. Our father farmers knew

that all the mouths would taste the same

when we would feed them corn and soy

& the feat of 10,000 cattle in a single field.

Our father farmers knew that we weigh silos

with our pennies & sleep-walk to the fridge—

so much of my life belongs to a cornfield in Iowa

where livestock wade in waste-land and the poultry

knows no sun.

–ECW

Poem 74 Revised

Very much like the acorn
-A glossy grove encapped-
The ebony beak crack
Clack cackling at the stem.
How then do you tell the acorn,
Wrecked surely from the feat
That birds too need to eat.
Very much like the acorn,
Bitter to the tongue and
Worse to the soil a foot
With gravity wasting no effort
To drag it smoothed under.
Very much like the acorn,
Thick shelled tree-shot
Lether-metal skinned seed
Where bird must feed
On the crisp new acorn
It too must be cracked to proceed.
—ECW

Poem 74

on swallowing my ego

very much like an acorn
capped absentmindedly risking
the ebony beak crack
clack cackling at the stem.
what then do you tell the acorn
wrecked surely from the feat
that birds too need to eat.
very much like the acorn,
bitter to the tongue and worse
to the ground afoot with
gravity too wasting no effort
to pull it smoothed under.
very much like the acorn,
perhaps contrite, perhaps
but don’t you look smugly behind
the cricket eye of anonymity.
a bird needs to eat of the thick skin of
a new acorn, and it too must be broken to proceed.
–ECW

 

Poem 74 RevisedPoem 74 Edited