Citizens, I greet you. And you,
Agamemnon,
finally back.
The enemy wiped out at last
after ten long years. We thought you had died.
Bombs, bullets, grenades and a knife
cutting you into a net—you died
many times over
or so I thought from the things I saw on CNN.
And I cried for you.
Suicidal even. The noose tied round
but arrested.
Hardly ever sleeping, kept up all night
from worry.
Never mind the rest.
Now that you’re back again
I can call you watchdog of the stables
ship’s saving forestay
firmly based pillar of the high raised roof
father’s only son
land seen beyond belief by sea lost sailors
most beautiful day after a long drawn out storm
fresh water stream for thirsty travelers.
Welcome home husband.
Dear husband, destroyer, step down.
Don’t set your foot on the dirt, but rather
onto these carpets
purple carpets—a sea of purple ever renewed
streaming over the ground
to soften your foot fall
and I would have found more, if a god had commanded it
to me, devising the reward for saving
this life.
Dear husband, step down.
Archive for January, 2011
the holy man and the rabbit
And one of the holy men, still falling from the sky, shrieked down at me. I thought he was a vulture. Because they had been falling for so long now that I had forgotten about the holy men and had gone on with my business which included the —- among other things. But then the sound of the vulture, which wasn’t a vulture but a holy man shrieking like a vulture, made me look up again and remember about the holy men who were still falling. The holy man, having my attention, channeled his vocal cords to make different sounds and then he spoke to me these words: “You there in the mud will you always want this life of rabbit chasing never to eat a rabbit but always chasing and the days of your life consumed in this way always until you must die?”
Miriam Makeba
“Everywhere we go people often ask me, how do you make that noise? Which used to offend me. Because it isn’t a noise. Its my language.”
School
You suck.
