Category Archives: Elms

Fieldstone Dislodged by A Plow

You’re tired and the world Tastes daily of death. Out here in the field The crows and gulls pry Into the furrows Crumbling behind you. You’re tired and the world Talks daily of death. Behind you the crows And gulls … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Art is theft, Death, Dutch elm disease, Elms, Hunger, John MacKenzie, John MacKenzie Poetry, Memory, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Poverty, The Brain, Time | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Connaught Square

Who mourns these elms, diseased, inconsolate, their long, undulant limbs dropping leaves earlier each year, small disasters splitting the rough bark of lesser branches, peeling it away from the tips down, little by little, while the wood begins to silver … Continue reading

Posted in Art is lies, Autumn, Charlottetown, Dutch elm disease, Elms, John MacKenzie, Language, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Social Commentary, Sonnet, Spring, The Rain, The Wind, Time, Winter | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments