I open the farmhouse door into this shadowy world
where starlight can loom and lift the mind to celestial things
or strangle. I would sometimes choke with each step.
My brother told me goats, demonic in frame, would trace his every step.
The barn in the distance, I have to cross yard and lane.
The garage light quickly fading, running off into the woods.
The barn is a dinosaur draped in night,
at rest after its long centuries of roaming
it grew tired, teetering with every breath of weather
and thundering it plopped down on this farm.
The hay field moved a little, like seaweed.
The roof, its steel sheets, or body? It's too dark to tell.
The lane stretches out into an ocean night;
fades into a timid moon.
When I enter its body, to do my chores,
the night is as dark as fear but not of the unknown-
I know this place but not this dinosaur body
its rib cage like beams cut from whole trees,
its muscles contracted bales of hay. My breath, stifled.
I know I need to feed the animals,
but this dinosaur-
Sometimes the horses went days without water.
Above is draft #4 with just a couple of changes.
The Barn is a Dinosaur (DRAFT 3)
The barn is a dinosaur draped in night,
at rest after its long centuries of roaming
it grew tired, teetering with every breath of weather
and thundering it plopped down on this farm.
The hay field moved a little, like seaweed.
The tin roof a blanket or body, its too dark to tell.
The lane stretches out into an ocean night;
fades into a timid moon.
When I enter its body to do my chores
the night is as dark as fear but not of the unknown-
I know this place but not this dinosaur body
its rib cage like beams cut from whole trees,
its muscles contracted bales of hay. My breath, stifled.
I know I need to feed the animals,
but this dinosaur-
Sometimes the horses went days without water.
Above is a my 3rd draft of this poem written in late February 2020
The Barn is a Dinosaur (DRAFT 2)
The barn is a dinosaur draped in night,at rest after its long centuries of roaming
it grew tired, teetering with every breath of weather
and thundering it plopped down on this farm.
The hay field moved a little, like seaweed.
The tin roof a blanket or body, its too dark to tell.
The lane stretches out into an ocean night;
fades into a timid moon.
When I enter its body to do my chores
the night is as dark as fear but not of the unknown-
I know this place but not this dinosaur body
its rib cage like beams cut from whole trees,
its muscles like contracted bales of hay.
Stifles my breath.
I know I need to feed the animals,
but this dinosaur-
Sometimes the horses went days without water.
Above is the draft I wrote in February 2020. Below is the first draft of this poem written back in 2019 (Fall?).
The Barn is a Dinosaur (DRAFT 1)
Frequently halting I stop to breathe awe:
inhale and exhale, moonbeam and start light.
The barn a dinosaur draped in night,
at rest after its long centuries of roaming
and thundering it plops down on this farm,
the hay fields rippled, returned to their vertical existance
teetering with every breath of weather.
It sleeps now, beneath sheets of metal.
When I enter its body I want to explore
but fear permeates like a vapor spreading.
a devouring feeling envelopes my senses
which shows up in my joints, though connected and held together
by ligaments and tendons and muscles my joints
seem to move in ways I don't want them to move
and don't move in ways I want them to.
I stop breathing. How long has it been since I breathed?
The clock melted in my head. Numbers mean something,
but i can't remember. All there is is this night
and this dinosaur body and the dark place around the corner
I want to and don't want to go.
I know I need to feed the animals.
