Copyright © José
Hernando Chaves, 2000. All Rights Reserved.
PAUL BUNYAN, INC.
We lumbered beneath
the slow grind of his boot,
like common logs,
surrendering ourselves
to the odor of winter;
damp pubis of wool socks,
blisters like slabs of bacon.
While the forest became,
an industrial boot print
filled with acid rain,
rivers of glacial piss,
a blue ox turd
hardened into a mountain
we'd never climb.
