David Nelson Bradsher
David Nelson Bradsher Poems
Comments about David Nelson Bradsher
Yesterday Is Forever
You might disown my bitter tone
and lump me in with crazy men,
but when I think and speak in ink
you'll have to kill my tilted pen
in order to prevent my view
from being easeled on display.
I document the time I've spent
reliving every yesterday.
The statues stand like rusty gods
in silent judgment, sternly cold
in squares, in parks and college quads,
debased with bird shit, dirt and mold.
The pigeons peck at Lincoln’s feet
or squat upon a soldier’s head.
Let’s nix the seed, and let them eat
a ration of unseasoned lead.