Jeremy Garcia – College of Arts & Sciences
A November night that stood on blocked wood.
On stumps with a leg caught on that frozen timber.
If armies could stand on these time pieces, man
George Washington might have made it to a star.
Named for one of the lumber yards that steered dried core’s onto terra firma,
His brightness would’ve been seen.
Except for princess little’s, his stormy rain brushed story would’ve ran straight.
Except for chipped legs,
He ripened just fine from bottles of wine.
The reddest of the dried berries plucked right off the hat of sickle lovers.
How didn’t he see that maize maze coming?
Opening the wheat thins together in the strongest of bonds.
Crossing the limbs of toe nails to the brown wave riders.
Except for the limits, the frailty of his soul shoe shown.