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Folk Theorem
by Jim BenzHere, a tangled street
in a neighborhood
of boarded windows
beneath a sky of iron
that rusted away
in the canopy of time
where cars stand still
Here, men haunt the relics
of their garbled hunger
and eat like rodents
from a terraced garden
near a crumbled house
where dwellers bleed
for radishes and cabbage
09/30/2009 Posted on 09/30/2009
Copyright © 2024 Jim Benz
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 10/01/09 at 12:57 AM The situation, the place, the scenery. You breathe their life authentically. I can walk a few blocks in any direction where I live and find them. Find these circumstances. Their hands are the hands we should kiss. Balm. |
| Posted by Shannon McEwen on 10/01/09 at 05:40 AM wow, you paint a vivid picture here, I can't just picture it I can SEE it. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 10/01/09 at 12:55 PM Folk gone the way of most folk unable because of age, illness, or lack of circumstance to move on, staying where they are until time just forgets about them. And given enough time, everything is forgotten. Very nicely done Jim. |
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