The lumberjacks slices steeples,
fells people's chimney's
on windy roof tops.
The cops show,
talk over traffic.
They panic, send a team
of dream interpreters up
to interrupt the lumberjack's
mad cackling, "Ask
my axe" he cries.
He lies through his teeth.
They see a man
who stands that fell.
Hearts swell and contract
in back and forth conversation.
Their patient laments
his actions, "In my dreams,
trees scream; machine guns,
children running, I can't
possibly stand, consuming air
when there, out in the forest,
I'm abhorrent."
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