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Jenna & Dennis |
I'm a recluse, I was raised in the desert.
I remember only sand twinkling through my toes,
And stars there were only stars
dancing me around
A lively place,
Quiet, silent with the shout of tarantulas,
Reverberating, with snake calls,
With the acrid love/death-call of the vinegaroon,
With the swishes of horned toads,
between stone-silent meditations...
Mirroring the surround in convex eyeballs
Concaving into reality within/out.
I'm a recluse. I was raised in the desert.
The mountain means to me I go on forever.
The endless sky taunts me
with again and again and again.
With the nearest kid five miles away,
Me and my stone barn in the desert.
Me and my fifty chickens.
Me and my five great danes to protect from the wolves
And my mother to protect me from my wickedness.
I went barefoot without her permission
since she locked me out.
Dare I tell all? yet the desert protected me in warmth.
I found I could talk to wolves and explain to them
How to behave with decorum
And not eat great dane puppies, since they are of a race
like men I have seen.
And one wolf marked me with a nip...
Just to let me know he knew I was right
And he'd leave the pups alone,
But that eh could still kick my ass if he wanted.
But I was only a puppy.
Wolves and great danes and tarantulas
We lived together and protected my mother
from our wickedness
I went barefoot without her permission
since she locked me out.
