My last name
is likely derived
from the color of a swept wooden floor
or the dirt swept from it
into a pan
into the trash
from the color of shit
or the body of a dead blossom
from the color of waterlogged pilings
under a fog soaked dock
from the color of
things walked on
things discarded
things never seen
unless you’re drowning
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Dark Matter 
May 14th, 2010 at 12:03 pm
This has an epic feel to it, of a strong identity, with sort of an “I am Beowulf” edge to it. 🙂 Very cool.
And that last image, what a lasting image. Straight to the solar plexus. You’ve left this reader of yours breath-napped and wide-eyed at imagined shades of riverbeds and seabeds (a lakebed might be on the greener side, no?).
Brr. Cheers.
May 14th, 2010 at 3:13 pm
Thank you for your thoughtful comments.
I’m fond of this little poem. I am pleased that you caught the “Beowulf” influence, subtle though it may be…I often think of “Beowulf” as a model for certain types of poems that doesn’t get used enough these days.