by Paul French

Created on: November 12, 2008

Agrarian

I've uprooted old wishes

Cast them stem and petal to the Dim

Tilled old desires into rows of time,

Waited, in ready wedlock, for something to grow

On its own

Without seed

But soon I decided that seed was needed

Enough to

My project, a failure far enough

Left dry, blank and aimless

Like a long rifle bent or broken

The white packets of seed on a revolving stand

A lanky tornado of prospects

Which one should I grab?

How to know the taste of the

Outcome from the paper labeled

Possibilities, with their pictures

Of the ideal product

And the price, strung and hanging

Like a diseased appendage -

An afterthought, maybe.

The imposing pleas

Of bleeding red and harvest yellow.

Or the more moderate green shadowed look of

Others which I've heard grow fine

Anywhere you put em.

There's the impatient clerk

Staring, with time, a fixture on his wrist

And he's waiting, watching me turn

The stand.

He'll make suggestions crow-like

But I'll say no until he dissolves

Behind the counter and leaves me

With my eyes hooked on the spinning prongs.

Until I rotate with them

My own price tag fluttering like a ribboned kite,

Or a plane toted advertisement above

An Earthen

Field

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