Cave man

 

I stepped up to the mouth

of the dark hole,

a flicker catching my curious

necessity for heat 

as in a fondness for friction

something strong stirs

in this cave

I come to find

as my eyes adjust

not some majestic dragon

as projected upon the moist stone wall

but a shriveled and scarred ogre

unseen to himself and flesh burnt

by the venomous flames uncoiling

from his own sharp tongue

lashing.

The smoke and singe surround every crevice

a decrepid and deathly stench 

steams from his chest where 

his heart rotted in the darkness

called some body and vacant vessel

vulnerable and afraid 

of all the elements

that make 

a man. 

Photography: Albert Grünwedel (July 31, 1856 – October 28, 1935), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Body in motion

My heart does one hundred meter dashes,
jumping at the reloaded gun.
The infantile hairs on my skin are erect,
as though blowing at high speeds.
                 --cannot catch up to my breath.

Sporadically,
at the apex of my rib cage something feels
trapped or collapsing in origami swans,
somersaults and am sitting still

listening to the bamboo wind chimes,
low & lightly in the late-after noon shade...

There is no further of going nor
West I can go,
and a sense I cannot share this feeling
-end of the road
with anyone.

Anxious, I guess.
And I don't ask,
because I am alone.

Is it uneasiness,
I never wondered
too hard
I'm afraid.



Painting By Arkhip Kuindzhi (1842-1910), Sunlight in Park (1908) and (http://kuinje.ru/) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.