Sunday, November 29, 2009

Dream beetle; draft #2

I sit on the dry turf
sink into hillside's fair chalky meadow
dry summer day clouds mixed crimson magenta
and for months ash masked sunsets the world over.
My minds eye sees beetles burrowing through the dung of my dreams
crimson and black carapace
mandibles grind even rock to dust
palpi feel for food and digest
stone-dust their waste back-filling tunnels
like analid these anthropods mix like no sex does.

I now know as no sense can tell:
sun enriches my skin with vitamin D
eyeballs turn back toward my brain
eyelids flutter as the butterfly
and like Chuang-Tzu before me
beauty amazes confounds confuses amuses,
but leaves ever after an awe of the unknown.

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