Tuesday, April 24, 2007

There is no separation

is the arcane truth
orphans must wrap round
their naked selves
a tattered blanket they nursed the corners off
the big lumbering dog
a spot of sun below the window
all the warming things

when you are a bit rested
stand at the base of a great tree
or a telephone pole
beneath the shaft of a flag, if you like
some line rooting in the ground as
an earthen umbillicus
and remember -
everyday is your birthday
she will feed you milk and cake
your ancestors will come to celebrate;
they are here beside you.

(photo by David Alan Harvey Oaxaca, 1992)


steve said...

"they nursed the corners off" ...where did you get that?
I did actually that with mine.
Cool poem. especially the bottom half.

UF Mike said...

Funny; I'm partial to the top half. That "they nursed the corners off" gets me too. Good poem, Kissyface!

kissyface said...


about the corners - I've seen it happen. I've taken care of quite a few children in my lifetime. the boy i babysit now is eight, and nervously chews little moth holes in his shirt sleeves, collars and sometimes even the hem. it actually ends up looking like something you'd pay alot of money for at fred segal, but i think it makes his mother fret about how he appears at his lycée (he goes to the French school here in LA).

it also recalls my ex-fiancé who, as a small child, nursed on his Weimereiner, Maggie's, soft grey ear for comfort. but that, as they say, is another story for another time.

Huckleberry said...

"it also recalls my ex-fiancé"

Yeah, and then there's that story I'm waitin' on as well...