Monday, November 1, 2010

Ants with Sticks

I watched them dismantle a cat's game in my backyard,
their X's and O's imprinted in the rust-filled sand,
symbols left behind like fossils who refused to change.
I watched them transplant the sticks piece-by-piece
over new blades of grass, new colors of flowers,
hoping they might be filled with sweet, simple time:
free land, free energy, free love in arms of freedom.
Sedentary, I sat watching and drinking beer
while a tired sun set behind the distant hills;
political ads poured out my windows, ignorance
screamed back-and-forth like wavering curtains
torn by the hands of an evening draft—I sat,
I watched them play games with broken branches,
and the history of our world continued to suffer.

6 comments:

Old 333 said...

Ants are perfectly nice when they're at home, just awful in public. Thanks for the poem, Jeremey(Sean?) - enjoyed it.
PG

Tommaso Gervasutti said...

I am very glad to have found this poem and your blog thanks to your comment on mine.
"Ants with Sticks" is something I very much feel close to my world.
I love poems expanding from an observation and this one expands naturally and powerfully.

Jenny Enochsson said...

I love the energy and density vibrating here. Your poems often have a great force of nature feel about them.

Eileen T O'Neill ..... said...

I really enjoyed reading your poem. It is what is real about life itself and nature. Busy working away, while the mundane, though thought to be 'essential' calls on human life, tick by.
I suspect you have had an election interest in USA!
The ants have a busy life, every day!!
Eileen

Ande said...

This is good; full of energy and undercurrents of power.

Francis Scudellari said...

Ants in the backyard, ants on TV both playing at games they think are significant... at last the ones outside are much more fun to watch. Nicely done.