top of page

Dissecting grass


I wait beneath a noise of pain,

I tend my roots. Skyscraper lawn

up there is turf, it skins alloys,

napalm soft. Break in allies!

The green is grim. The place is mulch.

The hazards groan. Today I flinch. 

 

I stand with blades of lignin lace,

I wash by shores of earthy lakes.

The seeds of yesteryear confess

upstream. Backyards of worldliness

grip crowns and leaves are limbs. They touch

my heart with chloroplasts. I blush. 


Stephen Paul Wren

Recent Posts

See All

A runner’s lament

Thanks to Ice Floe Press for publishing this sequence: https://icefloepress.net/2025/03/03/a-runners-lament-a-poem-suite-stephen-paul-wre...

Cantilevers

I am a cantilever. Supported at one end by the grounded truth of the universe. I am a pawn on a cornice chessboard. There is another me,...

Comments


Drop Me a Line, Let Me Know What You Think

Thanks for submitting!

© 2023 by Train of Thoughts. Proudly created with Wix.com

bottom of page