In Nebraska est 1997 Before the Bodies are found

[milo]

In Nebraska est 1997 Before the Bodies are found
 
There is no point in going on sometimes - 
when you can stand where the red steel
fenders of the stopped car
by the ditch - festered with the rich alien germ
of cottonweed and loosestrife –
the rare splotchy growth that defies
the overwhelming hegemony of wave upon wave
of corn stalks gossiping as the sun’s stark
yellowbreeze pushes through the spaces - springs
the stalks back only to be expelled again.

                - run now -

through the break in the rows -
carry your burden, close your eyes against
the sharp leaves as the corn reaches out
to paper-cut your eyes
and paper-cut your barely-haired wrists.
Stumble over the berms and drills
searching for a hollow place

to stand like ruth amidst the alien corn
and wail the song of breech at being borne

and run and run and run again
as the faces of the corn mock you
and the sweet breath of the corn sings to you its sibilant song
but there will come a time when you fall
as every man that ever heard the call – 
fell
and you can join the song and
wail at the birth of the neverborn
and sing at the loss of the everborne.

Plant now your feet and grow as sheaves - 
let your insides hollow with the drying stalks
let your arms up to lift the sunrise
as the autumn falls to winter
and your face falls off
and there are just 2 ears left
open to harvest
maggot eaten

In Nebraska est 1997 Before the Bodies are found
 
There is no point in going on sometimes - 
when you can stand where the red steel
fenders of the stopped car on the roadside
of the ditch,festered with the rich alien
germ of growth like cottonweed – the rare splotchy growth that defies
the overwhelming hegemony of wave upon wave
of corn stalks rustling and gossiping as the sun’s stark
yellowbreeze pushes through the spaces - springs
the stalks back only to be expelled again -
run now
carry your burden – close your eyes against
the sharp blades as the corn reaches out
to paper-cut your eyes
and paper-cut your barely-haired wrists.
Pass between the berms and drills
searching for a hollow place

to stand like ruth amidst the alien corn
and wail the song of breech at being borne

and run and run and run again
as the faces of the corn mock you
and the sweet breath of the corn sings to you its sibilant song
but there will come a time when you fall
as every man that ever heard the call – 
fell
and you can join the song and
wail at the birth of the neverborn
and sing at the loss of the everborne
as your memory joins too the shushing whisper.

Plant now your feet and grow as sheaves - 
let your insides hollow with the drying stalks
let your arms up to lift a distant sunrise
as the autumn falls to winter
and your face falls off
and there are just 2 ears left
open to harvest
maggot eaten

[wasellajam]

Yikes. Did I miss Annual Poems About Suicide Month?

[milo]

Yikes. Did I miss Annual Poems About Suicide Month?

it's about corn, ella
corn

---

Just did a quick pass for basic editing

[milo]

Did another editing pass to clean up some of the logic, verbiage and punctuation.  Edited inline so I can't spoiler the original but I still have it if there is any interest in comparing

Thanks

change to the last part - I put the original in a spoiler

[wasellajam]

Without going back to the original as we're in Fun some things I notice:

In Nebraska est 1997 Before the Bodies are found
 
There is no point in going on sometimes - 
when you can stand where the red steel
fenders of the stopped car by the ditch, Better I can just about follow this now, maybe better without the comma.
festered with the rich alien germ of cottonweed
and loosestrife – the rare splotchy growth that defies Yes to cottonseed and loosestrife, those invaders.
the overwhelming hegemony of wave upon wave
of corn stalks rustling and gossiping as the sun’s stark
yellowbreeze pushes through the spaces - springs
the stalks back only to be expelled again.

- run now - Maybe better, I'm on the fence.

through the break in the rows - This - may weaken the ones above
carry your burden, close your eyes against
the sharp leaves as the corn reaches out
to paper-cut your eyes
and paper-cut your barely-haired wrists. ugh, gruesome but powerful
Stumble over the berms and drills
searching for a hollow place I like these lines, made me look for that definition of drills, good choice. But I think of a grave and then you're standing in the next line, loses me.

to stand like ruth amidst the alien corn
and wail the song of breech at being borne was it always borne? nice play.

and run and run and run again
as the faces of the corn mock you
and the sweet breath of the corn sings to you its sibilant song
but there will come a time when you fall
as every man that ever heard the call – 
fell
and you can join the song and
wail at the birth of the neverborn
and sing at the loss of the everborne
as your memory joins too the shushing whisper. Might want to lose too but a fan of these lines

Plant now your feet and grow as sheaves - 
let your insides hollow with the drying stalks
let your arms up to lift a distant sunrise To probably quote you, is the sunrise more distant today than yesterday?
as the autumn falls to winter
and your face falls off
and there are just 2 ears left
open to harvest
maggot eaten ugh again at the gruesome images it inspires but strong.

In Nebraska est 1997 Before the Bodies are found
 
There is no point in going on sometimes - 
when you can stand where the red steel
fenders of the stopped car on the roadside
of the ditch,festered with the rich alien
germ of growth like cottonweed – the rare splotchy growth that defies
the overwhelming hegemony of wave upon wave
of corn stalks rustling and gossiping as the sun’s stark
yellowbreeze pushes through the spaces - springs
the stalks back only to be expelled again -
run now
carry your burden – close your eyes against
the sharp blades as the corn reaches out
to paper-cut your eyes
and paper-cut your barely-haired wrists.
Pass between the berms and drills
searching for a hollow place

to stand like ruth amidst the alien corn
and wail the song of breech at being borne

and run and run and run again
as the faces of the corn mock you
and the sweet breath of the corn sings to you its sibilant song
but there will come a time when you fall
as every man that ever heard the call – 
fell
and you can join the song and
wail at the birth of the neverborn
and sing at the loss of the everborne
as your memory joins too the shushing whisper.

Plant now your feet and grow as sheaves - 
let your insides hollow with the drying stalks
let your arms up to lift a distant sunrise
as the autumn falls to winter
and your face falls off
and there are just 2 ears left
open to harvest
maggot eaten

It's growing on me.

[milo]

Without going back to the original as we're in Fun some things I notice:

let your arms up to lift a distant sunrise To probably quote you, is the sunrise more distant today than yesterday?

yep.  SMH.  This is why we have other people take a look

[milo]

Without going back to the original as we're in Fun some things I notice:

In Nebraska est 1997 Before the Bodies are found
 
There is no point in going on sometimes - 
when you can stand where the red steel
fenders of the stopped car by the ditch, Better I can just about follow this now, maybe better without the comma.
festered with the rich alien germ of cottonweed
and loosestrife – the rare splotchy growth that defies Yes to cottonseed and loosestrife, those invaders.
the overwhelming hegemony of wave upon wave
of corn stalks rustling and gossiping as the sun’s stark
yellowbreeze pushes through the spaces - springs
the stalks back only to be expelled again.

- run now - Maybe better, I'm on the fence.

through the break in the rows - This - may weaken the ones above
carry your burden, close your eyes against
the sharp leaves as the corn reaches out
to paper-cut your eyes
and paper-cut your barely-haired wrists. ugh, gruesome but powerful
Stumble over the berms and drills
searching for a hollow place I like these lines, made me look for that definition of drills, good choice. But I think of a grave and then you're standing in the next line, loses me.

to stand like ruth amidst the alien corn
and wail the song of breech at being borne was it always borne? nice play.

and run and run and run again
as the faces of the corn mock you
and the sweet breath of the corn sings to you its sibilant song
but there will come a time when you fall
as every man that ever heard the call – 
fell
and you can join the song and
wail at the birth of the neverborn
and sing at the loss of the everborne
as your memory joins too the shushing whisper. Might want to lose too but a fan of these lines

Plant now your feet and grow as sheaves - 
let your insides hollow with the drying stalks
let your arms up to lift a distant sunrise To probably quote you, is the sunrise more distant today than yesterday?
as the autumn falls to winter
and your face falls off
and there are just 2 ears left
open to harvest
maggot eaten ugh again at the gruesome images it inspires but strong.

In Nebraska est 1997 Before the Bodies are found
 
There is no point in going on sometimes - 
when you can stand where the red steel
fenders of the stopped car on the roadside
of the ditch,festered with the rich alien
germ of growth like cottonweed – the rare splotchy growth that defies
the overwhelming hegemony of wave upon wave
of corn stalks rustling and gossiping as the sun’s stark
yellowbreeze pushes through the spaces - springs
the stalks back only to be expelled again -
run now
carry your burden – close your eyes against
the sharp blades as the corn reaches out
to paper-cut your eyes
and paper-cut your barely-haired wrists.
Pass between the berms and drills
searching for a hollow place

to stand like ruth amidst the alien corn
and wail the song of breech at being borne

and run and run and run again
as the faces of the corn mock you
and the sweet breath of the corn sings to you its sibilant song
but there will come a time when you fall
as every man that ever heard the call – 
fell
and you can join the song and
wail at the birth of the neverborn
and sing at the loss of the everborne
as your memory joins too the shushing whisper.

Plant now your feet and grow as sheaves - 
let your insides hollow with the drying stalks
let your arms up to lift a distant sunrise
as the autumn falls to winter
and your face falls off
and there are just 2 ears left
open to harvest
maggot eaten

It's growing on me.

ok, I made some more changes - most based on your suggestions which I agree with almost entirely.  I have switched born and borne a couple times.  I am not sure.  I think most people will get born and then reconcile to borne afterwards giving me a free double meaning but I am not sure.  I certainly need born as well