Public Republic

Theo Edmonds

Photo: dawnzy58

I will stay and work here only until the grapes have grown on the vine.
The vineyard at harvest is much too violent.

Manipulating –
The beauty of the liquid nothingness
As the wounded water flows hard from their snake-mouthed moan.

Crushing –
The motion of the grotesque animals
That fuel their bottled-high revelry by telling light of dawn.

Their flying is too high for me.
These people become too high from the inebriated celebration
Getting freaked out when it comes time to land.

Their flying is too high for me.
These people charge head long into the after-harvest roughness
Departing, then, will be my plan.

It is harvest time – and I choose to leave.
But, should I ever be needed here
I will return.
I will stay and work
Until the grapes have again… grown on the vine.