The dandelions in the moment and then by CJ Evans

February 5, 2015   The dandelions in the moment And Then   CJ Evans

It is. And needles do not fall, do not fall cones. The soil keeps holding the grass seed and the dune sand beneath is still torn by thirsty, wooden hands. By bedrock is where will be my tenoned pine. And the grass seeds do not split, Their shoots do not spill. The clouds Remain, widely. That locked closet inside will never have its tumblers turned. Honestly, all I had was the only lie-that I could be the one who evades. Sparrows do not fall in the owl falls. Left behind are her thin hands, a box full of ribbons, the bolt, a knife. Photographs with anybody's faces. Hungry letters, angry letters about the team and people and love that is not. No image holds its meaning Within itself. Not one dandelion fell. Please. Something did happen here.            Copyright © 2015 by CJ Evans. Used with permission of the author. About This Poem   "I have a little box of objects que are very important to me, but are worthless Otherwise. When I die They will Become trash. These few objects que Rely on the context of me to be valuable will be changed, even if nothing else is. The words in this poem cam from William Faulkner's  As I Lay Dying . " - CJ Evans   CJ Evans is the author of The Penance (New Issues Poetry & Prose, 2012). He is the editor of Two Lines Press and lives in Aix-en-Provence, France.  Most Recent Book by Evans   The Penance (New Issues Poetry & Prose, 2012) "About Death and Other Things" by Aleksandar Ristovic "Belong To" by David Baker "Fairbanks Under the Solstice" by John Haines Poem-a-Day   Launched During National Poetry Month in 2006  Poem-a-Day  features new and illustrated previously unpublished poems by contemporary poets on weekdays and classic poems on weekends.