By Marc Carver
SNOW ON TREES
A long snake sits on top of bark
the sun casts a shadow on another tree,
it looks like a man with roots for legs and arms
running as fast as he can
If I grew roots from my toes
and planted myself in the earth
I could stay here
this is the only place I want to be
ROAD TO NOWHERE
I ride the tube all day
to murder time,
get off at stops I have never been.
The tube starts to sing to for me
it knows I am a lonely man.
I get off at white city but it isn’t white and I realize I have been here before
a long time ago.
The sun comes out at three it makes me feel better about me having my sunglasses with me.
If anybody asked me what they were doing on my head I could have said I was an optimist which of course I am not
I get back on the tube try to find somewhere new but I have been to so many places
the woman across from me has a reinforced gusset in her jeans
it unsettles me.
I start to feel like a strange homer
or the wandering Jew
no need of an arrival.
I go into a church light a candle for my mother
it is more than I ever did for her while she was alive.
I get on a bus for a change then walk until I drop
people walk over me or think I am drunk so I decide to get up
and continue the journey to nowhere.
TEN GREEN BOTTLES
I have wine bottles holding up my bed
I don’t know why I have so many
the things that now hold me up
are the things that could of so easily
pulled me down