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in them hollering trees

donny dolland
he lived alone
in one of them
old tin homes
in the bush
surrounded
by black sand and
blue gums
he’d nothin
but a few
gas bottles
fishin rods
and a pot belly stove
at night time, he’d
walk to the place
where they met
dressed in nothin
but his hard yakka shorts
and blundstones
he’d pour himself
a little whiskey
sit under the stars
and wait
every night
he did that
waited
sat on them
mountaintops
lookin out
at the horizon
sometimes
you’d hear
him callin
callin out her name
like a lost child
it echoed through
the trees like
the most
haunting wail
he died
up there
you know?
waitin
poor old
donnie dolland
who didn’t
know the
difference
between
right and
wrong.

in them hollering trees

s sansom

Paris, France

  • Artwork Comments 7

Artwork Comments

  • mychaelalchemy
  • Sally Omar
  • Ushna Sardar
  • Leda D
  • Jim Hall
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