fractals - s. d. dillon

i.

A pub that has grown through accretion, to sprawl over its turf—

Ceiling beams added here to build out 

a space for three wide tables & a bench,

a step down from the warped

wooden floor, dry & sanded to a contour

by footsteps.

Bay window glass so old

it’s dripping. 

ii.

The computer game of life 

& viral growth.

That spreads. 

And spreads.

iii.

The forest slashed to strips—

lines rows nodes.  

Regrowth nudged

by attachment at edge

squeeze compress

tension of surface 

contiguity.  Airborne 

seeds & spores

& deposits from birds 

& ash.  It all settles. 

Soil water light—

It grows.

Something green.  It grows.

iv.

Emeralds encrusted 

with silica, mud.

 S.D. Dillon is a poet and small business owner from Michigan. He has an AB from Princeton and an MFA from Notre Dame, where he was Managing Editor of The Bend in 2004. His poetry has appeared recently in Tampa Review, Door = Jar, Wild Roof Journal, Panorama, and The Tomahawk Creek Review, and is forthcoming in Canary.