423b2e
423b2e

11.18.2010

an rdg poem

for goatman

Diagnosis

Funny,
how an antiseptic coat
and a white slip of paper
can easily knock us
off perches
we cling to
so
tenaciously.

We free fall
Our mighty oaks
beating us
unmercifully:

whipping leaves,
snapping branches,
gouging flesh and
bruising bone.

Does any one ever notice
the dull, vibrating thud
of Man's face
slamming into earth?

We lie dazed.

Molded in packed earth,
we hear
the deep thrum
of earth blood,
its answering echo
pulsing through our veins.

Something primal
surges
up and out.

We begin:

To eat earth
claw clay
dig dirt
burrow our way
towards root.

To feed.
11/2006

xxx

9 comments:

goatman said...

I used to think that if I fell from a great height the trees below would catch me. Soft masses of limbs and leaves break my fall and leave me dazed but alive.
Now wiser, I know that cannot happen.
But I still appreciate trees from below, their limbs and leaves protecting me from the sun above, and my folly below.
Thanks K

soubriquet said...

I confess I find this poem quite disturbing.
it's that last stanza, it gives me the shudders, pale white faced things, their mouths filled with dirt, and teeth, gnawing their way toward the surface.
Urgh. I shudder. Stay high, I think, No feet on the ground, shun the ground, step on nothing softer than concrete.... climb, oh climb, as if the fearsome mouths of hell, the pale bloody claws are reaching for you... And never, never, fall.

goatman said...

Soub,
Sometimes we are forced to feed on the roots, to return to the source to gain strength.

I don't mind the dark depths, am not afraid of what lies below. I can add that to my life experience and consider that too, in balance.

I am now open to all experience!!

red dirt girl said...

Goatman - Well said!!!

Soubry - don't be such a fraidy cat ....

xxx!

Dave Mows Grass said...

I remember this one as a favorite among favorites. I'm enjoying it especially since the Dave Mows Grass family just learned of it's own diagnosis this week. No big deal and obviously no surprise, but it's a syndrome that sounds like Ass Burgers. I'd never heard of it till a month ago, but after reading about it, I definitely know who my son has to thank for it. Lots of questions answered this week!

Your poems rock!

~Dave

Dave Mows Grass said...

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving!

red dirt girl said...

Thanks Dave! you rock. I'm sorry to read about your 'ass burgers' but there must be some relief to know that it is a true syndrome/disease that is treatable albeit not curable. I mean, at least now, you know the animal you're dealing with and that helps. Keep me posted. Happy T-day to you too. Bless me: I have to work black friday and saturday ..... arggggggghhhh! xxx

Dave Mows Grass said...

Yeah, I volunteered to work Saturday. I figure I'll spend the whole time contemplating every bad decision I've made in my life to lead me to a situation where I need to bust up a four-day weekend just to pay the bills. But that is my life!

Love ya!

bulletholes said...

This is a very great poem Red.