Soft Fluorescence — Elan Mudrow Photography

Oregon Coast Trail, Cape Lookout, Oregon. July 21017

via Soft Fluorescence — Elan Mudrow Photography

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Forest Rash — Elan Mudrow Photography

Eagle Creek Trail, Columbia River Gorge, Oregon. November, 2015

via Forest Rash — Elan Mudrow Photography

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I’m the child who strips sticks

off maples and oaks

To slap curbs like drums

Make them mallets

To tap out the melodious

Microtones of storm drain covers

 

I preform this inside

A concrete planned pattern

Where Chestnut street

Meets Spruce street

A tilted suburban loop

Built to maintain an evenness

Defined by the coiled pavement

 

Where, with purple, silver-speckled

Five speed Schwinn,

I race round the circle, of

Chestnut and Spruce, who

Are laid down with chipped gravel

And oil’s secrets

The yards of homes blur by

Separated by

A miscellany of fences and bushes

 

Then, it is easy to surf streets

If followed truly, leading

Down to the new fort

Built of spruce and chestnut

For decorative purposes

Upon the remnants of the old fort

Where the sluggish current

Of a river, once jammed with logs

Slips underneath various drawbridges

 

I am the child who swims

In the river, along with

Eddies and undertows.

If the shore never moves

I know I’m against the current

I must catch a sandbar

Stand upon it, catch breath

Then, reenter the swirling soup

Wait for the big ships to pass

To bob like a doll in their wake

 

With the strength of child arms

Pulling myself ashore

I’m the speck of flesh, river rat, drying

On the coarse sandbank,

A mixture of Junk and Nature

Rough on my soft, tender

Spoiled feet,

Which have never calloused.

 

I yearn for cold, green lawns

Water sprinklers, who

Accidentally hit the hot pavement

If not set correctly

And my sticks, the tools

Of the melodies

Which are left

Where I last filed them

At the beginning of this poem