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McKenzie Lynn Tozan Posts

I am not this tree.

Where did these bricks
come from –

perhaps they were trees
and olive branch

burned

in a santuary window.
As though to throw off

the jack-in-the-box image,
the mouth of an auditorium

the Keynote is the inversion of a ghost

– what do they aspire to?
A tree, a lime –

burning with seeds –

burning in the window.
You do not exist.

You do not place the flowers
on this four-legged

coffee table.

The “colossal wreck”

How large must the statue be
when

buildings are buried
like small ships

once floating
in a sea of sand,

flesh-turned
-clay figurines walking

under the dome
that is brushed with sand

and wind and grass
that touches

two amputated legs.

*

Inspired by “Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Corn Field

1.

A house was parked
floating
on a vineyard where

scarecrows frowned upon a funeral.

The mother said,
“And this is where you were made –”
pointing to the area

between

her legs.

2.

That winter,
corn stalks
and cactus leaves

coexisted.

The child pictured
a machine
fueled

by wax and steel,

by jars of small glass eyes –

3.

And he pointed to where
he buried a vessel

where the roots

of unseen cactus
could feast

on the young.

The Day I Left Candles At His Grave Sight

I think of him
every year on my
birthday –

He died of a stomach ache –

I remember how
I wrote poems and
plastered them on

the walls
as though they might

accumulate
into a
thirteen-year-old boy.

I imagine how
his eyes

would be replaced
with small worlds,
his hands holding

desert sand and
sea grass

instead of
the usual
Indiana corn

and coffin nails.