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| it is the sun
it is the sun scraping against these trees that gives birth to sorrow in us, fecund football, the womb wherein meanings grow sullen obligations, foeti with razor teeth to gnaw through the meat that spells love in us a minute, for meanings that forget us fall like light through cities where trees have been, and rooms now lie empty where toads have dreamed beneath the trees, once before brick was, there where they remembered the spawning that threw them together words for nothing, from nothing, words that remember them and the trees that mourned - it is the sun scraping against these trees or the toad in me, just leafy dreams |
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| David McLean |
| David McLean has a couple of chapbooks out, one a free download at
Whyvandalism.com. The other, in print, can be ordered at
http://www.erbacce-press.com/#/davidmclean/4527659941. He has a full length poetry collection forthcoming at Whistling Shade Press in June 2008. A second full length collection "laughing at funerals" is due from d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t press this fall. Details are at his blog at htpp://mourningabortion.blogspot.com. |
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