a working poem

another "working" poem, about the old saw mill/veneer plant at Cuddeback Lumber, where i worked at for about 9 years, running the barker/cut-off saw. written in 97. it was a really crummy place to work, mismanaged to the max (well, isn't everywhere?) - but i learned a lot, and the job itself had some interesting moments.


LOG POND CELEBRATION

i spit saw dust
& pitch seams.
somehow salvage a profit margin
of this garbage timber.

wind off the log pond
smells of hemlock sinkers:
two mallards find it a perfect place
to mate & raise their young.

my hands rubbed raw
by the wind
no longer cry upon pages
that have forgotten your address.
but they find moments
to peel crust off stale sandwiches.

my fingertips delight
in the swift beaks
of the mallard young.