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To wait in the evergreens

By Richard Fox



as you must—in evergreens prior to

daylight or savings—many cars will pass

through the ether. To wait in the evergreens


is just like you, who never owned a farthing—

your smartphone is a chocolate bar

tilted to your ear. To you, starving

is a kind of theater, but no one would

blame you, were you to come up lacking,

for going back home, taking off your


shoes, & placing them beside your bed;

no one could blame you if you were to

polish them laboriously, blacking


them for when you are walk-sore—

a stoop-shouldered melee in a fedora.

In your new mobility, you will


walk through a tall hedge, & mid

step, you’ll be done in the fledge of an eyelid.

To wait like water that fills the lowland


aquifers beneath the hill, is to be the deep

that wrinkles & tears like paper, & keeps

alive the grass that shares—


with this perpetual place of needle-fall—

the shade & caul of the ample Earth.

Those who appear dead, for all it’s worth,


remain here, & walk with us through fire

or through wood; honey & pasture standing

where they stood; no sweet without the sting.



 


Richard Fox has been a regular contributor of poetry and visual art to online and print literary journals. He has been recipient of a full poetry fellowship from the Illinois Arts Council, a CAAP work support grant from the City of Chicago, and a work fellowship at the Millay Colony.


Swagger & Remorse, his first book of poetry, was published in 2007. He is currently working on several collections of soundscapes, which are being made available online at Bandcamp.


A poet and visual artist, he holds a BFA in Photography from Temple University, Philadelphia. A former Chicago resident, he now lives in Salt Lake City, Utah. He can be found on Twitter and Instagram.

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