The Death of a Logger

Lick the blade,

Bleed yourself out,

Tell yourself it’s for your work,

Your way of life,

Ignore the blue deer,

And the eagles nest,

Chew up the green,

Spit like tobacco,

Look from space,

Satellites capture your denial,

Food grinders spin in your mind,

Cannibal dreams that drip oil,

And make loud noises,

Run four legged,

This chainsaw won’t stop,

We are permitted,

To cut hole in the web life,

And pulp your soul,

Why not leave some trash ?

It’s empty land now,

And your toothless grin needs drink,

And push up skirts,

Mom sure is proud,

Until billy died -tree bucked his ass,

The forest laughed for the first time since the deer ran,