amphibi.us

Lucky to be so dumb.
Lucky for poetry, lucky for rugs.
And there is neither day or night, nor what is not
Or what is
Caves under swallowed seas
Hosting the hidden parting of all things.

Lucky to be so sound.
Lucky for perfume, lucky for mounds.
And there is neither stream or desert, nor what was not
Or what was
Blundering calves realizing their duty
While dancing upon conveyor belts of beef.

And cardinals bury rocks with a
Sobbing grub
Napping toward its far-away journey beyond
A beast in the basement
Eating my refuge from life where life’s unconscious
As lost gravy.

© RC Miller, 2010