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psalm_onethirtyoneThe mounted bison in the museum
who watch over their glass-eyed calf
--one case over from a snarling white tiger, one case below
a furling wave of bats, their wings pinned wide--
are beginning to split along the sides.
Their thick rich fur, which befits
an animal dignified and tattered,
is shredding to show the stuffing underneath
taking the place of their long and powerful bones.
I would like to break in to them at night
and set them free upon the plains.
In the ocean, jellyfish deal in infinites
because there are no measuring sticks to tell them
whether they are big or small.
They grow one hundred twenty feet of transparent tentacles
flowing from their red and golden bodies
like invisible rays from a sun in the sea.
Sometimes they wash up dead on shore,
where they look like largish blood clots.
Alligators cluster in their mothers’ mouths
and spiders weave stars into their webs to let you know,
politely,
that you should not walk through them.
The bumps on toads look like precious stones,
golden-brown topaz and freshly mined emeralds.
The stripes on a snake run through its eyes.
Human children play in fountains wearing brightly-coloured swimsuits
clamouring like chicks in a hutch
and then they grow up to research constellations.
Most of the time I am sad
and sometimes I am even doubtful
even of the strength in my arms and my sunbrown calves
but all of that does not mean I cannot taste
the bigness of all of this.
Snails are faster than you think.
There were days when those museum buffalo
could cover this whole country
from start to finish. Instead of stuffing,
they had hearts the size of bricks
beating out their blood.
who watch over their glass-eyed calf
--one case over from a snarling white tiger, one case below
a furling wave of bats, their wings pinned wide--
are beginning to split along the sides.
Their thick rich fur, which befits
an animal dignified and tattered,
is shredding to show the stuffing underneath
taking the place of their long and powerful bones.
I would like to break in to them at night
and set them free upon the plains.
In the ocean, jellyfish deal in infinites
because there are no measuring sticks to tell them
whether they are big or small.
They grow one hundred twenty feet of transparent tentacles
flowing from their red and golden bodies
like invisible rays from a sun in the sea.
Sometimes they wash up dead on shore,
where they look like largish blood clots.
Alligators cluster in their mothers’ mouths
and spiders weave stars into their webs to let you know,
politely,
that you should not walk through them.
The bumps on toads look like precious stones,
golden-brown topaz and freshly mined emeralds.
The stripes on a snake run through its eyes.
Human children play in fountains wearing brightly-coloured swimsuits
clamouring like chicks in a hutch
and then they grow up to research constellations.
Most of the time I am sad
and sometimes I am even doubtful
even of the strength in my arms and my sunbrown calves
but all of that does not mean I cannot taste
the bigness of all of this.
Snails are faster than you think.
There were days when those museum buffalo
could cover this whole country
from start to finish. Instead of stuffing,
they had hearts the size of bricks
beating out their blood.
