Friday, January 1, 2010

Transformations

I am splitting wood
with my brand new
just bought yesterday
eight pound maul.
Gripping its very cool
red fiberglass handle
I whack with abandon.
I am transformed.
No longer just an aging
refugee college professor,
I am become
a mighty woodsman,
a handsome lumberjack,
PAUL FUCKING BUNYAN!
Only now, my back hurts.
I need a cigarette,
a drink and a nap.
Transformations,
they always come
with such a price.
  - mce

3 comments:

  1. Odd, how many people like this little poem. I composed it in my head while chopping wood and wrote it down in ten minutes. You never know...

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  2. I'm an anarchist: It had to be either red or black.
    :)

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