THE OWL OF WOODRUFF by Zac Dunn

The air is escaping through the vent

So outside into the snow I went

Looking for the

old cold little

boy who was once so

brutally annoyed

Gazing in the

vacuum expanding

endlessly

Into sublime silence

He would speak of another place

Far away that was the opposite of where we stood

A place of lights and humans and filth and crime

A place of vice and excess of choices expanded to extensions

Spelled out neon and steel

He spoke of himself tragically

Thrown all alone like a stone

From his aging folks

more surprised to see him than them

Always hungry and ambitious

As the snow falls and I crawl up the block to

Sprinkle the salt so souls don’t slip

I wonder about the cold night he told me that he disappeared

Somewhere between the Deuce and Penn he said

The inner aorta of the pulsing ugly thing

That was bigger and badder, kinder and more sublime

Bathed in the torrents of humans like

The sun chasing the moon rising and falling

But never recalling where they came from long enough to forget

Where they were

SANDY would lace his boots and put on a long woolen coat before putting

The long string that contained his keys around his neck

As he stepped out of the door

He clutched a tiny hand-painted LEAD KNIGHT for luck

As the flakes coated the granite and tar block leading down

Woodruff an OWL somehow stopped long enough upon

A bit of spalted ASH to behold a small person who seemed

So all on his own that for a brief moment the snow and the COLD

Made him utterly disappear

And swallow him WHOLE

Zac Dunn is a psycho-social mechanic, father, musician and dreamer. Check out his music and follow him on Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr.

Check out Zac’s January Birdy install, ON DOGS AND WHEELS, in case you missed it, or head to our Explore section to see more of his work.