July 19, 2012

poem 242 of a poem a day for 2012

shell-ample soul

I am a dog
walking man
for a god
in me
ambling along
ahead of the lions
on the red clay earth
and wrapped with
the moist smells
of pine needles
and the summer
turning clicks
of the watch beetles
keeping track
of the sting-nets
of the cicadas

just outside
where my eyes
have latched onto
the identifiable reality
of sharp sticks
there are racks
of broken bones
that look like fingers
pointed towards
what kind of clothes
have fit me best
from my crowning lies
meant to be seen
as bent down serene
lapping up the stream
I’m eager and thirstily
cupping my hands
for anything to drink
and wade through
what a thought does
when I am already full
of self doubt
when I might
just feel something
besides a reason
not to be
so satisfied with
such a hollow me


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