Planted by Columbia Slough — nee swamp—
near brackish ponds and bronze tangled weeds,
the rippled-tin sheds, the squat concrete barns and mills
collect their own bracken: castoff goods adrift and sinking.

Corrugated metal walls, moss-pocked concrete
And slurry heaps of black tar vie with brambles
for the parking lots, and rusting motors accrete
iron-eating barnacles of fern

and lichen, surrealistic sculptures, wrought
of nature’s rape. The entropy of decay
has taken hold of plant and machine both
and dying slow together, they create

a metamorphic soup — evolution’s flotsam
in a weed and concrete sea.


Catherine McGuire

About Catherine McGuire

Catherine McGuire is a writer and artist with a deep interest in philosophy and the interface of Nature with humans. She has many poems published, including in publications such as New Verse News, FutureCycle, The Quizzical Chair anthology, The Smoking Poet, Portland Lights Anthology, Fireweed, and on a bus for the nationally-known Poetry In Motion project. She has taught workshops around Oregon and her chapbook, Palimpsests, was published by Uttered Chaos in 2011. She has three self-published chapbooks. Find her at
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