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his memories are making a glorious mud</u>


it is a lumberjack's wife whose veins are budding twigs,
arms feeble as every dried branch to soak a shining star.

it is her who bares such troubled wrists for oven mitts,
so ardently delivers her hoggish assembly some hulking bird
whose body cavity is crammed tight to the sphincter
with a spiced bread. instinctively, she goes for the knife.
there is some raucous applause as she serrates

its oiled, peppered and flightless skin and on
into its succulent chest meat as every spectator
dreams of flying. her blade burrows farther in
and under enough to dredge up a pinkish marrow,

where she stops, lets the carver out
to start again from the beginning...

no lumberjack lives here,
no whiskered axe-man wakes to the rooster.
a daring cedar deadened him flat as toads who nap
beneath some winter stones. his brain was stapled to earth
with a mighty red branch and there have spread rumors.
the truth? his memories are making a glorious mud.


years ago, the wife recalls, someone invented a camera,
she says, just so that pictures of him living, at snarl, his foot upon
his victim's chest, could be placed in shoe boxes,
later made to drape each hallway
as posters to the past.

peach cobbler is served behind the bird and people embrace
each other for the first time in years. they begin to consider
what the names of their children mean. someone mentions olivia,
a name not one of them would think to name anyone,
symbolizes peace. olivia, of all names, they say.

there is a whispered conversation, some low giggles,
about the casket being constructed of wood.
what else could be done?
isn't it hilarious, though?
a casket made of wood?
for a lumberjack!


i, i cannot believe he... where is my camera?


several drinks are served. see, an esophagus
becomes a straw when people celebrate death
and i know that trees will eventually fall
on those that fell them.

it is only sensible—we drink to forget

and a man that has killed a thousand trees
is meant to be buried by one.
i was going to say a lot here, but now i don't feel like it.
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Daily Deviation

Given 2011-01-03
Elegant and powerful in its simplicity, his memories are making a glorious mud by ~getbeneathmebird is worth a second read. And a third. ( Featured by nycterent )
onthemetro Featured By Owner Mar 9, 2014
"several drinks are served. see, an esophagus
becomes a straw when people celebrate death
and i know that trees will eventually fall
on those that fell them.

it is only sensible—we drink to forget

and a man that has killed a thousand trees
is meant to be buried by one."

Cripes, this is damn good poetry.

I have a feeling I'll be spending the day filling my favorites with the entire contents of your gallery. Thank you for being here.
substanceabuse Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2013
God damn you for always making me feel like I should stop even trying to think I can write.

I miss you, and everyone, I feel so completely
out of touch.
WrittenRevolt Featured By Owner May 13, 2011
Hey, congratulations on being in $Moonbeam13's Pimps & Whoas! :clap: You've been featured in #theWrittenRevolution – check it out here. :heart:
RequiemsandReveries Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2011
Wow, really powerful the way you did the line breaks and the italics all for emphasis. I like the ending. I think it's funny and ironic. Nice job
fantasmorte Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2011
wow, I love the imagery here. great job, well worth a dd :)
kmotsko Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2011  Student Writer
You have quite a way with words. I like the irony and the little repetition you use here. Part i. in particular was really thought-provoking. Thanks for sharing this!
AbCat Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2011   Writer
I really like the stuffed bird analogy, not only does it give me a craving for kentucky fried bird, but it's a neat and image-laden way in to the funeral wake. The smartarse in me is fighting to mention that whole chicken/turkey/duck/ostrich is not usually served at these occasions, and it is also harbouring a thought that most coffins are made of wood; this strengthens the inanity of the chatter at the end of ii but takes away from the close.

Totally loving the last stanza of i. The title phrase is some really sick and disturbing gore, yessir.
NonieR Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2011
And are you overloaded with people correcting "It is her" to "It is she"?
SymphonyInWilde Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2011  Student Writer
Out of curiosity, and because loads of poets on here seem to make this choice: why no capitals and yet punctuation? And why do you split it into sections, "i," "ii," etc.? It's really popular on here right now and it's beyond me why - but in this piece it looks like it might mean something, so I thought I'd go ahead and ask.
Lit-Twitter Featured By Owner Jan 3, 2011
Chirp, congrats on the DD, it's been twittered. [link] :)
fossilfuels Featured By Owner Jun 29, 2010   Writer
brilliant really
AlecBell Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2010
Your language is splendidly adapted to your darkly comic purpose.

The last line doesn't seem wanting to me. It lays a final irony on the timber casket!

The cadence and richness, the vividly realised scene, all these features remind me of Joe Orton, a writer who managed to do his own particular damage to the English tongue!
b1gfan Featured By Owner Sep 14, 2008  Student Writer
that's quite work - very interesting and thought-provoking
cataplasia Featured By Owner May 15, 2008
This piece has a great sensibility about it, the first stanza/piece is that best, the death felt very far away, your choice of words felt very meticulous in the choice, like they would jar someone one way when you assumed definition would go another, like my brain was bunching, a bunch of times, but the poem carried on flawlessly. Great tone, and poem.
dork9368 Featured By Owner May 2, 2008
i've never read any of your work.
but after reading this, and being at a lack of breath, i think i'll start.
Self-Intoxication Featured By Owner Apr 29, 2008
Hey, look at that! I already commented.

I also like the piece.
myloveliestsequence Featured By Owner Mar 14, 2008
really crazee shit, alex.

only part i heavily dislike is the ending:

and a man that has killed a thousand trees
is meant to be buried by one.

it seems...bland. it unnecessarily elaborates on what has been indicated before. in being so it's not a bang but a question mark, drawing attention to the previous implicts, thus making one (i.e. me) question the quality of the ending's composition.
it doesn't necessarily add something new enough to be kept pondering over/with, if you get my meaning.

apart from that, i fell for it. but, again, the ending made me wanna get up and think more than might be considered healthy for true love.
getbeneathmebird Featured By Owner Mar 18, 2008
thanks there tobias. i'll take another glance at that ending.
Self-Intoxication Featured By Owner Apr 8, 2008
I like your signature.
root-kite Featured By Owner Mar 1, 2008
this is some of your finest work. in terms of image, in terms of assonance & alliteration, in terms of narrative, in terms of honed fire. this is a beaut. like cartoonstigmata, I love the first section most; it's my avenue, you see & will agree. it's incredible, like a self-contained short story within a poem within a great scene.

iii. is clever.

iv. I have trouble with ONLY because the ending is so spelt out. even the joke in 'buried by one' (1. killed by it, 2. being buried in a wood box), which is good, isn't enough to make the last stanza sound un-final.

forget that, I have no problem. it's a transition, it works. ALEX YOU BEAUTY.

as he rots the memories rot though slowly, change like photographs cannot
getbeneathmebird Featured By Owner Mar 18, 2008
thanks kasper.

i do want to work on the ending...
cartoonstigmata Featured By Owner Feb 29, 2008
i'll have you know that i immediately read the first stanza probably ten times over, not because i had trouble comprehending it but because i fuckin' loved it. i love your wordplay throughout this poem dearly. and the imagery, especially in the first section, was some of the most evocative and absorbent i've read in a long fucking time, and i thank you for that. and finally, it's the beautifully tragic irony in your symbolism that finishes this with the consistent feeling that's permeated all your classic pieces for as long as i've been reading you. great fucking job and thanks.
thisruinedmachine Featured By Owner Feb 29, 2008   Writer
this is great. i only wish part iii. was longer.
great job!
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Submitted on
February 29, 2008
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