a little nature poem I wrote during a day I called in sick for work...but wasn't sick. |
I got tired of going in circles like some music-box ballerina whose cruel child owner can't get enough of that song that wails when he winds you up, always watching, hands always ready to turn that key at the start of each new day, eyes always eager to send you spinning off in confused orbit to your dreams, falling away, too dizzy to stand, arms thrown up in vain defense, back arched, trying to support the weight until I snapped... I snapped back up like a spoon in a food fight, threw the lid across the room and stepped out of this box that I live in; that clotted air stuck in my throat cleaned out as with a chimney broom, washed down with the cerebral water that kept my mind afloat... one two three, step- one, two. one two three, step- one, two. Reader, now listen, I recount you That tale of the ale of the gods, They, who Smiling behind azure veils Built these walls, Sky-blue. Walk through, I strode to The door, then they all turned to see... this STRANGE being. (Who is THIS, now?) (Don't know.) The gods covered their nakedness, Scrambled to set upon me a draught that would (Help him forget before he remembers What it's like inside; drown those thirsty embers! Leave him gibbering joyfully out here with no recollection we sent the) Air. That's all I recall. It came to me tumbling on the breeze, It sang to me in whispers Through the trees With that sudden quiet loudness In your ear, that breathy brush what makes your face flush and dig your nails in and Every muscle contracts to hold on tighter While you shiver. It broke over me like warm bathwater, Laid me down a sleeping child in parents' arms On a blanket of grass; It tickles cold Like an arm when you sleep on it wrong and I drank and I drank as much as I could and it spilt o'er the banks of my mouth and poured down my cheeks and I drank more 'til those shroud-clouds all gathered 'round to look down at the fool upon the ground who drank more and more 'til he giggled with giddy, drunken glee: I could not stop; the wind (the earth's most fastidious bartender) kept sliding drinks down the bar top and they all went down smooth so I drank more and the clouds spun together like twine, a slate gray anchor rope keeping the earth down and tearing me away and I clung to it as the floor went all see-saw beneath me, threatening to roll me over and off into space, but then... lift-off... and then... no trace. One two three, step- one, two. I woke in my house on the carpet. The door had just blown shut: I couldn't see who I sought, Because It was All spinning.... spinning... spinnn n-ning.... Stop. |