Uncle Solomon’s Beard Reeks of Spirits

by animalworkss

“If I remember correctly…

It was a bright and calm night
For the sun had yet to set,
For some reason

6 o’clock
8 o’clock
10 o’clock
– the same!

And towards what object of inquiry
Did we direct our blame?

‘For shame, subatomic fission,
For shame!
You pick now of all times
To show off your essence?
Your that-which-could-in-our-
Midst-appear-any-other-
Way-shape-or-presence?’

‘And with what will we make of ourselves
And our day? Our month? Our year?
How are we to mark
Our comings and goings?
Map out our sorrows and cheers?
Plan to emote in any fashion whatever,
With nothing to go on-
No time, no forever?!’

‘The sun might as well
Water-at-will, spill out its guts
Till the heaving sets still
And when it’s All let out
And bare open to See
We’ll All cast out our nets,
And eat lunch for free.’

And wouldn’t you know it,
That what came to be
Was that very proposal,
Which forced us to flee

To our underground bunkers
To think for a while
Over what sort of sacrifice
To even compile

After such an Alter
Had made itself present

‘Well there’s some left-over fish
And bread stolen from peasants’

And with that, The Molemen
Rose up from the ground
Annointed anew
Through sweat on our Crowns

With new purpose
Based on the rhythm we’d found
Amidst ridiculous possibilities
Of future and past

Whose endless cycles we
Are bound to outlast

…”

And with that,
Old Uncle Solomon rambled off to sleep
While the rest of us
Found not a grain of sand or a wink
Afforded our eyes;
Exhausted, having witnessed
Such a struggle

What’s left-
Our thoughts
And the sound of
Him snoring, his drool
Forming a puddle…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright Keli Birchfield 2012

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