James H Duncan

The last tree at Golden Gate

where they hung
invisible men
high overlooking Alcatraz
earthen heartache
set adrift on
gold tan water skin, the genius of water
and the love of calm observation
a painted bridge on infinite repeat
once finished, again to start
and the last tree at Golden Gate
waits with one power line in sight
just to the right down
the hill
where men work the harbor ‘till dusk
stiff backs bred in Taiwan and Oklahoma
men with hats, trucks, homes
and worries unknown to the wind
that ruffles the feathers in the last tree
at Golden Gate

This poem appeared in the chapbook "Maybe a Bird Will Sing" and was inspired by the same moment in which the cover photo for this issue was taken. More at http://jameshduncan.blogspot.com

No comments:

Post a Comment

The views and opinions expressed throughout belong to the individual artists and may or may not coincide with those of the other artists (or editors) represented within the magazine. Hobo Camp Review supports a free-for-all atmosphere of artistic expression, so enjoy the poetry, fiction, opinions, and artwork within, read with an open mind, and comment wisely. Thanks for stopping by the Camp!