When I die feed me to the worms

[Keith]

Just wanted to say well done on this . (I read two layers or pictures in here).
On my first pass through I struggled a bit in the second stanza with the continuation of the descriptive lists, but then a dawning of meaning and progression took hold and I got increasing pleasure from each line.
Will be back to read a few more reads before the week is out, will offer any observations as I might see them ...but for now just enjoying the read
Cheers AJ

Thanks AJ not sure readers would get the cross section approach, but you seem to have so I'm hopeful, also I find list poetry pretty boring and this is very much a list so nearly changed my approach would be good to have your thoughts if you have time. Cheers Keith

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A sky that would look false had an artist captured it.
Grey scale clouds crafted by abstract thermals.
The olive afro canopy of a large nodding oak.
The gurning bark of its leathery furrowed trunk.

The bald liver spotted scalp of the village vicar.
Eyebrow caterpillars twitching as he says my name.
Nostril hair bends holding trapped dry mucus.
Moving lips stick thin lines of spit onto brown teeth.

Starch collar too tight for the grubby index finger.
Ink and paper mantra add a time frame his script.
Shirt buttons arc under tension over a pot belly.
Stained nylon trousers with iron burns on the pocket.

Ankle socks dark with sweat pushed into black slip-ons.
Fine green blades v-shaped folds under rubber soles.
White network of writhing roots thinning into soil.
Deeper clumps of clay ready for throwing into pots.

Shingle, scree once deposited by a meandering river.
Mahogany polished to a red mirrored veneer.
Silk quilted cushions with chesterfield buttons.
Flaccid skin on bone and cartilage, foundation and blusher.

Three inches of foam, padding out half an inch of pine.
Worms race through excreted tunnels beneath the softer wood
Pulsing, Circling, sensing their prey as the first shovel-full lands.

The reportage in here is excellent, a real poet's eye for details. I forgot how much I love the word 'olive' and now feel like I have to use it in a poem as well.

well done.

Thanks Milo I will look out for the word Olive as very much enjoy your posts. TOMH