Thursday, November 17, 2005

Cave-Painting with the Shaman Einstein

Bison staring into history’s gaping maw
Spear belt hitching posterior haunch
Lo, what legs are these spindly and human
That you tread the rocky ground upon?
Could it be that the gory bloody head—
bespeckled in grey matter discussed instead
by Einstein, which he says equals metallurgy chemically squared—
squarely resting on newer shoulders, severed,
at the point of breathing stopping and spirit spared,
through complete recognition of beingness weathered,
only represents qualities of animalia relating to loyalty,
steadfastness, stamina, prowess and largess of herders and grazers
whose story is that of migratory?
Could it be that this recognition
represents furthermore a precognition—
of civilizations looming around histories’ corners
whereby cereals and serials get confused by mourners
of the olden ways—beating drums and stirring fires
charring paints, rubbing pigments with horse’s wires
flying through time into extensions of now,
into preclusions of pasts, and altered futures;
so that what was calm becomes a stormy cow
mourning the death of her beloved bull
feeling her heart beating still and full
as the calf comes to comfort her with a nipple withdrawal?
Here, the meat nurtures;
there, the milk nurtures;
and, life continues, strands of DNA from these shaman
and their families entering into the everyday human
carrying with them the bygone rituals and ceremonies
that may one day save humanity from its focus on monies,
that one day caused grief in someone as intelligent
as Einstein: for his atomic contribution he felt negligent…

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