poem 242 of a poem a day for 2012

shell-ample soul

I am a dog

walking man

searching

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

somewhere

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

EJR ©