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CONSTRUCTION-


ROAD DOG

JARED SNIDER
 
​#1

a heavy blues chord
in an oppressive minor key
resonating, filling the ears.
a sensory headache--
heat of the Oklahoma
12 string
dreadnought sun

#2

Production and schedule dictated
the large stainless steel fin fan unit needed to be set.
The 888 crane began its smooth gear driven rotation
swinging south into the hot wind.
Tumbling 130 from the black crane lattice--
A nest manufactured,
wheat strands from the surrounding fields,
construction waste—strips of yellow barricade tape and snips of tie wire.
Upside down the nest landed and the eggs were not broken.
Two deep blue eggs with black speckles so delicate,
they almost fractured in my hand.
A miracle, a naturally engineered marvel,
thrown in the job site trash along with the rest of tape and wire.
The fin fan needed to be set.

#3
2 large wet blood puddles, I remember now big as lakes
a long trail of smaller spots, leaving the blood lakes like dried river beds.
Shocked. against the pan hard, thirsty brown soil.

Pictures were taken from different angles.
A report full of pictures.
a picture each
To document of the futility of a man fighting
Manmade materials.
Picture of How—soft we are, there was no resistance.
Picture of When—will I forget? Years later the event is with me.
Picture of Where- was it? The entire area is now paved black top.
And

Picture of Who—A father that will never hug with two arms again,
A carpenter with only one arm.
Useless as a nail without a hammer.
However,
not one picture
was taken of what—the effect was,
of the steel hard men,
crying

#4

on the skin
is the rhythmic plucking
crisp popping beats
of a high metallic sound
chilling seemingly random notes--
a banjo
The unrelenting rain
of a Houston winter storm.

#5

Sunday morning and I am leaving for another 3 weeks.
My youngest daughter, 4 years old is in a princess night gown
little hand pressed against the screen door.
Strawberry blond hair covering the right side of her face
slightly she shifts her head down
as I close the door to my white work truck
That little nod--
I wished her hair covered her entire face
or that the front door was closed.
She and I have done so many goodbyes.
The hurt does not lessen.
Picture

EXPLORING THE NW

HUNTER NELSON
PHOTOGRAPH
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