The war is in words and the wood is the world <br />That turns beneath our rootless feet; <br />the vines that reach, alive and snarled, <br />Across the path where the sand is swirled, <br />Twist in the night. The light lies flat. <br />The war is in words and the wood is the world. <br /> <br />The rain is ruin and our ruin rides <br />The swiftest winds; the wood is whorled <br />And turned and smoothed by the turning tides. <br />--There is rain in the woods, slow rain that breeds <br />The war in the words. The wood is the world. <br />This rain is ruin and our ruin rides. <br /> <br />The war is in words and the wood is the world, <br />Sourceless and seized and forever filled <br />With green vine twisting on wood more gnarled <br />Than dead men's hands. The vines are curled <br />Around these branches, crushed and killed. <br />The war is in words and the wood is the world.<br /><br />Weldon Kees<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/variations-on-a-theme-by-joyce/
