pounding through rough-cut wild
there are the white-line reminders
each tree poled and caged in a crib of stone

every copper link strung tight between connections

                                                 and back to what?

every signpost and fence that splits

the difference of here and there,

mine and none,

now and then,

each tin-can hint of ravenous appetite

and all the littered scraps

of our consumption's fast-lane flight

                                                      flung

into what silence remains.