Thursday, January 11, 2007

Eleuktra Starsoft said...

Hope you don't mind ES, but I enjoyed it so much I had to post it up :)
If you want it remove say so, and it's gone...
I used to climb trees in the lanes and farmland,
I was bad –
I used to nick finch eggs from horse-hair-nests,
And bounce like a monkey man up there.
Mostly in ash trees,
But also hawthorn,
With all its scratchy blood letting,
Lines of scarlet on the arms and legs.
The true simian destiny for tree fallers is,
Of course,
To be devoured by cave lions,
With characteristic puncture marks,
In the skull from the lion's fangs,
Dragged away for a meal.
Fatalistically, perhaps to be discovered,
By Leakey some two million years later,
In a pit in Africa,
Cast in stone,
Fossil man.
More lastingly famous than any pop idol.
Concrete boned.
Fossil footprints are the best.
Imprints of life rather than death,
And those roman roof tiles,
With the footprints of dog or cats,
I love those.
Soft red clay left out,
In the sun to harden.
The dog inadvertently
Steps out into them,
And receives,
A torrent of artisan abuse.
Dog wonders, what the fuck it is doing wrong
And bolts right across all the tiles,
Simians shouting and stick waving behind it.
Dog mistake preserved for two millennia,
And ends up in a museum cabinet,
Where I chuckle, and wipe a tear at the pity,
The unfathomable gulf,
And the beauty
Of the shortness of time
That any of us have here.
Clay tiles
Have so much more
Purchase on existence than us.
I love that it's beautiful.
It's why we are like angels.


Eleuktra Starsoft said...

Ooh! Quite an honour actually. I have no problem at all.


Molly Bloom said...

This is sweet and joyful isn't it?

ish said...

This poem is a roof tile with far greater elegance than any other sort of footprint and I can picture the pure pleasure of a reader 2000 years hence.

Inconsequential said...

Ooh, do you think i'll still have a blog 2k from now :)
Hmmm, not sure I want to live that long...