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Poetry by Jeffrey Taylor 

Jeffrey lives in Utah.




© 2007  Jeffrey Taylor






Bastard Apple


Bastard daughter of tree.

A single apple in the grass.

Men arrive, sawing,


Hacking at the giant.

Through great machine

Blasts of noise, birds


Lift from the colored solace

Of thick leaves and fruit,

Fleeing for telephone wires


And cedar fence posts.

A small child wearing

Sandals leans against


Her apple red bicycle,

Mud on her ankle.

The tree is hauled


Away in two hours,

Generous green branches

Stripped and mulched.


            Cut it down!

            Cut it down!

Make room, make room


For electric vines to creep

From home to home,

Powering juicers and


Answering machines. An

Apple: a simple delicious

Apple, spared from chain


And gasoline,

Fades, slowly

Browning at the edges.


The seeded core shows itself

Haughtily, then decomposes

Into the green expanse.






pooled like...


in the flash-flood

bed she slept and i

across the canyon

lunged into a sandstone

cave where she found me

the next morning

            pooled like cold

            liquid mercury






All work is property of Jeffrey Taylor.




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