Monday, December 12, 2011

Woodsman; Paul Bunyan

sketches


ta-da!

if you can't read the poem, here it is.

His flannel shirt
Hangs on a hook
Near the door

His axe leans
Against the wall
Under the plague acknowledge
Forty-five years
Of loyal service

He's bored most of the time now
His arms still thick
But growing
As soft as his belly

Sometimes, waking
From afternoon naps,
Thinking it's morning,

He will lace up his
Big logging boots
Call for blue
And be halfway out the door
Before reality
Washes over him
Like northwestern fog

Then, looking
At the empty barn
He takes axe
From shoulder
Closes door
Unlaces boots


did this project for my IL class. still hanging in that class and learning shit.
MORE TO COME SOON. 

4 comments: