a notice nailed to a tree

February 8, 2013 § Leave a comment

the town, woke to
to see
hung from oak,
some sample culled
from swill
and they
forward filed until cloaked
was the scraper of the quill,
stoke the order still –
until spoke in
quarters holding
a fuller emptiness
were the words – to kill –
emptied out unto the
promenaded hills
and proclaimed
in fatal speech,
ill spoke
words received unjust
the hill wind
set text in dust,
sent speech spores, and
word adrift
language lusting
for a shift
in fate, but still
could not make the masses quake
harassing passages shake
it’s true
but take care which
are to be set loose
for they
can either be
net or noose
decide to choose
or choice you lose
then beyond bereft
your kind be left
either one will do

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead


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