a
lake is a character shouting clarity from the wetlands
it's
not clear who's listening
the
continental divide meanders along
and
then suddenly settles all disputes
forests
shape the dialogue
tamarack
straight-back never giving an inch
poplar
abundance
the everyman specie
jack
& norway pine the workhorses
sheltering
the lakes
each
lake
spider crooked swan winnibigoshish
and ten
thousand more
all
characters
in a play on words or the real
deal
or
just speaking up
like
every lost soul refugee
from
the blood & sweat cities
dying
of thirst
looking
for a pathway out
and
a space within
to
germinate seeds
to
rise out from the grease pits
to
hear like a deafening quiet
below
the squealing pitch
of
the tanker train
traversing
the very spot
where
you took your first steps
where
the music begins
where
a frozen pond
swallows
the etchings of a poem
where
the holy rolling highway
loses
its way but recovers by starlight
---
e b bortz
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