Aberration Among,
Those trees where wise men hung,
By their toes for days.
Unerringly dedicant
To the illusive processes
Of finding,
Eternity.
Their faces redden
With ink pooling
In their crown.
Why can’t they see
Their absurdity?
They hymn their way
Closer to a god only
To find a metaphor
instead. They miss
The point. I think
Tomorrow morning
I’ll take the pair
Of child safe scissors
I keep in my desk drawer,
Snip their divine cords
And let them
Fall.
Down here.
In the loam and worming
Roots. The pebbles,
The pebbles.
When the world is upside
Down sky looks
Like ground.
But Hark!
And prostrate yourself
To the squelching mud
And wriggling bugs.
When you look down
And see sky, there’s no
Where to go but down.
True eternity lies in the dirt
Looking up.