Saturday, October 16, 2010

Lassa, the prodigal ram

I've been eaten by sows, one boar.
I've scratched their thighs too often.
I've knocked the trees and loosened the bark.
I've turned on you, haven't I.
I've laid down in circles of straw.
I've constructed the circles myself.
I've arced them with my hooves.
I've tasted bread, which differs from grass.
I've sweated smells more so than most.
I've allowed you to touch my painful forehead.
I've turned on you for doing so, haven't I.
You've sold the sows, one boar.
You shook when they found me.
You've pruned those trees with saws.
You've turned from me, haven't you.
You've thought to lay in circles of straw.
Like a mouse, like me, nest.
You've felt your fingernails with the pad of your thumb.
You've tasted grass, but prefer bread.
You've gotten my scent for days in your nose, your hands.
You've satisfied the painful desire to touch between my eyes.
You've turned away from me, haven't you.
Let's return.
Let's try this again:
I will fully my name, and ram.
You fully yours, keep being.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

events

This twig and I meet across
the top of my head
It looks down and taps
the regality of sap
onto the soft spot of my crown
I'm so busy thinking
it's my need to imbue
these creatures with spirit
that I miss their chattered
whistled blessing
The water washes my hands.
The squash feeds me.
I meet the twig,
but it prepared the ceremony.