Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Dream beetle; draft #3

And I sit on dry turf
sinking into the 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
metallic rose and black carapace
mandibles grind 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 skin vitamin D
eyeballs turn back toward 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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