a puddle of a cat
pours over the edge
of a dented dumpster lid
my barber asked if I believed in evolution
“I didn’t come from no ape,” he said
I told him he came from his mother
that we all come from our mothers
although it is the paternal line
that everyone seems to focus on
my own mother, Christian, a Catholic
settled the matter when she said
that God used evolution to create us
she was a peace-maker, not a theologian
I do not have the body of my ten-year-old self
any more, but it does look a lot like
the one I had yesterday
the world of appearances percolates up
from somewhere, one supposes, in
a kind of maternal line with things
pregnant with the possibility
of thing-cum-thing, of change itself
whatever on earth that means
I get suspicious of things
when they start to seem too important
and I remember, one day a stranger
saw me all worked up and rushing around
in an aggravated bustle
and said, “relax”
On a drive to Smith Point hawk watch a couple of years ago, still early in the day. Most livestock does not have it this good. If you can call being raised to the slaughter a good thing.
We like our steaks.
I bet cows have some poems in them, or maybe some blues tunes. I think of time passing I think of the poems that slip away unwritten.
A wordless moment, with the sun in back, and low. Cattle egret waiting for a bull to move and stir up some insects, or maybe a grass snake.
They like their snakes.
A plastic bag
floats in the sea near Bali
‘Because of chemicals leaching
from discarded plastics, the fertility
of male sperm is plunging and frogs
are developing intersex traits.’
Photo and text via The Guardian
“I just dropped in
to see what condition
my condition was in.”
—Mickey Newbury, Kenny Rogers and the First Edition, acid tripping, etc.