by Rob Littler
Seems so strange the wild
Should be something hard
To define. Look I say the rock
The ground, blah blah blah.
OK look again, a man dying
Up against the bridge, concrete tent campers—
His eyes are closed, Interstates pound
Around us, me looking. Intentionally
Noticing the perpetual decay
Another man showering in a tent jungle under a bridge
As a landscape fades around it, it could be a camp
Of hikers in Utah’s gulch culture, that wildness…
Where the roar of the river and echoes arising are
Replaced by the rage of the rubber. Its horned thunder.
I drive by and see them, become their Trickster.
I know how to be welcome. The world behind me, begging
To turn left on a red, inching forward to put more weight on the
Saw marks, somehow, bump me “outdamudderfuckinway”
The wild is time lapse photography as your home, your safety, your bed—the Internet—
Are all stripped away along with the plumbing you require,
And the normal wanton gluttonous desire for electricity
And its Productivity via Connectivity are dead on every wire.
Squirrels become mighty welcome roasting then. Sitting on the ground
That already does surround this lounging here and there,
In a comfortable reality chair. The imaginary pen that this
Livin gets lived in, absorbing, compartmentalizing, defining…
Grasping, or not.
Posted on 08/29/2014
Copyright © 2020 Rob Littler
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Laura Doom on 08/30/14 at 11:33 AM|
We sophisticats love to flaunt our feral authority...
|Posted by Linda Fuller on 08/30/14 at 07:31 PM|
Damn I like this.
|Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 08/31/14 at 04:52 PM|
|Posted by Paul Lastovica on 09/01/14 at 03:05 PM|
I read as though written in gasps; always a change of pace is needed for us - a time to regain our sense of place; self; or purpose.
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 09/01/14 at 03:59 PM|
I'm so glad I read this. Quite brilliant how you divulge the wild. I love it all, but especially "the horned thunder". Worth many, many reads. So many totally delicious lines in this.
|Posted by Jody Pratt on 09/09/14 at 06:34 AM|
I came to post a poem and found yours, the poem of the day, written with the same meter and very similar style. I love the way this flows, and the words you've chosen. Favorited!
|Posted by Elizabeth Shaw on 09/09/14 at 04:14 PM|
I like the chaotic posing and opposing going on in this - the saw marks and horn blowing, cut throat luxuriating of nature against man-made line breaks. Bravo
|Posted by Linda Fuller on 09/10/14 at 12:47 AM|
Happy to see this as POTD 'cause damn I still like it. And among many notable lines and phrases I'll thank you now for 'gulch culture.'