PUNK POETRY: Redwood, Bluewood by E. E. Jacobs


red and blue in a sweaty dance

Skin glistening in three dimensions, 

fingers stretched towards them


pick and choose

A thumb rubs the smooth nubs

of the tv remote and


I’m supposed to want

my limbs to lift from the screen

exposed to filmy eyes behind paper glasses


paper that came from a redwood tree

older than a great-great-grandmother’s birth

I am watched through the ground-up valves,

the flattened pulp of a heart.


--E.E. Jacobs

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