To the Bros in the Den in the Woods

I imagine now telling the bros in the den
in the woods my theory about the chain

of dark or even anti-evolution, that says
James Joyce, who also saw new creatures,

writing Ulysses is the reason why Ted
saw a monster in the river in childhood

who in turn wrote The Hawk In The Rain
which is then the reason Jim Morrison

saw winged serpents in the desert on acid,
whom we know is never quite flaccid,

and his writing The Lords And The New
Creatures is then why I saw not one but two

which I shall not delve into quite yet
but which I shall never again clean forget -

the bros in the den in the woods might well
fall in with my scoffed at, empurpled Hell -

and with freed minds start to write poetry
to read out under the fallen down tree

in amidst the empty beer cans and ends
of cigarettes dumped there by their friends -

but what their fair maiden female companion
would make of the chain of dark evolution

could be that it's a bundle of fairy tales
unlike the crawling of actual snails

whereas I know the whole thing to be real -
and if I could show you how I feel -

would have you convinced that I'm right
but not well in the head, at least not quite -

which leaves me standing like a tall tree
in the wood where we used to read our poetry

which did, back when we were young,
and getting a foot on the ladder's first rung.

John F. B. Tucker

If you have any thoughts on this poem,  John F.B. Tucker  would be pleased to hear them.