Thursday, July 4, 2013

Road's Eye View

Amid the thunder, rumble, pops, crackles, rips, hisses, thuds, cracks, bangs, shots and blasts exploding all around Alligator Creek tonight for fucking hours now, the cacophony of Fourth of July firework celebrations complete with fragments of a late night drunken domestic argument drifting across the creek, there are creatures in yard, I don't know what ...frogs? ...insects? ...I can't tell, telegraphing each other through the now dark ...extended, one note buzzes and someone, a bird?, adding a tuneless, usually descending one note, whistle. Are they assuring each other that it will be, they will be, okay? I'm here. I'm here. We're okay. I don't know. Reminds me of a poem I wrote a few years ago when M. Lee and I were camping on a swampy beach on Southern Mexico's Pacific Coast.


Road’s Eye View


And her dog replied  
let us begin with death
and the possibility of death
for this is the humid season of atrocity
and wonder and the starting point
is fear and desire
twisted together
inseparable vines
the assailable heart
and the available flesh
lashed to a skeleton raft
survivors from the carbon sea
shipwrecked in a stinking swamp
ten thousand tiny concertinas squeak
in the buzzing, clicking, humming dark

Who are you?
   Here I am. 
Here I am.
   Who are you?
Where are you?
   Here I am.
Here I am.
   Where are you?
   I will feed your daily flesh.
Who are you?
   I cannot sleep.  
Peel back my skin and eat.

asha
Mexico, 2003


I also added this piece to my poetry archive at annasadhorse.

2 comments:

someone said...

It was a busy night.

Roy said...

Like that.