de-regulate me
de-
regulate me, whispered the river tributary
to its dumb and rushing banks–
and they obliged in kind, all the more willing
to hold water where water goes.
The wooded bottom diverged its course
long ago–its pain, the occasional flooding
water that tossed its sediments, made dams,
tracked an occasional moored-up Ford
deep into the orange wood, its abandoned corpse
filled with all kind of junk we’d find there:
the glass bottles of Ol Grandad sun bleached
beer cans tattered seats, foam exposed–
springcoil heart ripped open.
21 thoughts on "de-regulate me"
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I love the way this ends – springcoil heart ripped open. Excellent!
Oh, Shaun, I love this one! I love the clever lead-in and the entire path down the river. I love the specifics of the “moored-up Ford deep into the orange wood” to “glass bottles of Ol Grandad.” The last image is a heartbreaker. Take a bow!
timely political poetry that reaches farther than the term suggests
Agreed!! This one is singular for you, man!
This felt like one of the poets we’d have been taught in school.
This took my breath away. The point-of-view, the way it flows, the details inside the “moored-up Ford” and that last haunting image of “springcoil heart ripped open.”
Yes!
de-
regulate me, whispered the river tributary
to its dumb and rushing banks–
springcoil heart ripped open.
yes!!
Effective contrast in the pattern of de-structive, painful words — dumb, pain, exposed, tattered, abandoned, ripped — with the natural beauty of river, water, banks, etc. Even the adjectives carry verb strength.
All above have said so well.
I like there is a ripping apart at first & last,
how you have the tributary whispering,
how “banks” may have a double meaning,
& your concise descriptions of how land behind
an impoundment is affected by the lake’s
constant rise and fall.
Well written! I agree with all the comments about this poem! Kudos!
terrific description, great ending!
The poem begins and ens with such a punch. Nice, Sean!
Heartbreaking poem, Shaun!
Gorge-ous. Like I was saying: you and nature writing. It’s a thing. You should call each other. Romance will ensue. Here, in particular, I was attracted by the first lines, being a river borne insect myself and then to see the excavation result from it, such the better. This is also a good reminder that nature writing is not just about the sacred and untouched vines in their perfect environment, but what has become of nature and what we have made of it.
It’s been a real pleasure to read your work.
sun bleached beer cans got me
Fantastic!
I love this! It is so true to the experience of walking a creek or along the shores of the Lake Cumberland. Your word-pictures bring the scene to new life!
Wonderful title and whisper of this river tributary. Powerful metaphor.
If only everyone could hear the river speak…this is a timely and poignant poem.
Wonderfully enjoyed reading your work over the last month and really the past few years. Your kindness goes a longer way than you know. Truly wish you all the best this next 11 months and look forward to more years writing in the same space.
Love this piece!!