Another edit as I trawl back through notebooks. About three years old. Called Bigger Ant. The sun got up another day I arrived, wet and cord attached to mother Wash then spin Am I an ant that’s been saved? Cattle pens have bruised and shunted me to now Is this a dead end? Aged as I am, I know I’m not a DNA hero The mix has failed The memo-roller movie flux that returns on garden days Perfectly recalls my errant ways I am a lover’s reef, a ski jump of a companion A spike in other’s lives A host to thought Not kept and not a keeper Yet, somehow, my garden grows and blooms and holds me here To stumble in the dark To awake and make remarks on sense and time and loss and mind Like everybody else As everybody does Observation of self Weighing of loss Notice of death Burials of errors Time and time again Could I have suffered more? Overcome more? Been a bigger ant?
Posted on: Sat, 26 Jul 2014 10:34:44 +0000
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