Monday, December 08, 2008

edges riff (notes for a poem)

'in the middle of the night
we go walking in our sleep' - Billy Joel

not understanding that the feeding of infants
involves an ancient revolution
of the spirit
I didn't know
that my neural pathways
had faded into choked forest trails
and that I was being regarded
with some impatience
by something infinitely older
than myself
from the shrieking treetops

he stamped his huge tiny feet
and threw food in my face

until I learned better manners

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