Thursday, March 29, 2012

The Farmer

the farmer (poem by Mick Tomlinson)

some people bleed
and loosen their hearts against iron stakes
strung by barbwire,
out there
way out there
in green pasture where the cows roam,
the farmer works his hands
to the bone.
only dusk can save him,
while crops sleep
the farmer weeps and wanders alone,
out there
way out there
in a town with a million faces,
he walks backwards,
finishes the race before everyone.

who will tend to the meat parade?
who will bucket the milk and pray to god more
than a farmer
who didn't love his life?

some people need
connectors, a means to an end
between you and them.
sentinels to stand watch when
everyone else on earth
is still sleeping,
out there
way out there
in the middle of an egg-shaped ceremony,
lost upon the face
of mother nature.
out there
way out there
his spirit still sings as the chow bell
rings, all across the
wide-open prairie.


(R.I.P. friend, we will miss you)

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