The revolution of trees
wasn't started by minds organizing
common things in God's obscure garage.
Chaos-fathered, here they are
on a strip of dirt in the center of town
without demands for a brook or a forest.
Drizzle from a mongrel's kidneys cannot keep them down;
they'll grow beside trash if they must;
I meet a gnarled survivor with canary hair.
It's only April so I guess she's dying
but she wasn't desperate--I leaned on her
and told her of troubles ginkgoes never have--
It's now two seconds before midnight
on a day that began with nuclear fusion
four and half billion years ago Thursday.
Her kinfolk have lived here for eons;
mine for two million tough years at best.
How long will it last? Buddy,
my dog, sniffs a toy poodle walked
by a woman with lemony hair;
all it takes is one whiff and we're gone.
Thomas Dorsett
This poem first appeared in
The Texas Review
Spring/summer 2015
wasn't started by minds organizing
common things in God's obscure garage.
Chaos-fathered, here they are
on a strip of dirt in the center of town
without demands for a brook or a forest.
Drizzle from a mongrel's kidneys cannot keep them down;
they'll grow beside trash if they must;
I meet a gnarled survivor with canary hair.
It's only April so I guess she's dying
but she wasn't desperate--I leaned on her
and told her of troubles ginkgoes never have--
It's now two seconds before midnight
on a day that began with nuclear fusion
four and half billion years ago Thursday.
Her kinfolk have lived here for eons;
mine for two million tough years at best.
How long will it last? Buddy,
my dog, sniffs a toy poodle walked
by a woman with lemony hair;
all it takes is one whiff and we're gone.
Thomas Dorsett
This poem first appeared in
The Texas Review
Spring/summer 2015
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