Lull

September 12, 2011

At the forest’s edge, a fox
                                 came out.
                                 It looked at
us. Nobody coming up the hill hungry looking
                                 to take
                                 food. The fox-
                                 eye
trained. Nobody coming up the
                                 hill in the broad
                                 daylight with an
                                 axe for
wood, for water, for the store in the
                                 pantry. I stock
                                 the pantry. I
watch for rain. For too much
                                 rain, too
                                 fast, too
                                 little, too
long. When dryness begins I hear the woods
                                 click. Unusual.
                                 I hear the arid. Un-
                                 usual. My father
                                 is dying of
age, good, that is usual. My valley is,
                                 my touch, my sense, my law, my
                                 soil, my sensation of
                                 my first
person. Now everything is clear. Facts lick their tongue deep
                                 into my ear.
Visiting hour is up. We are curled
                                 on the hook we placed in our brain and down
                                 our throat into our
                                 hearts our inner
                                 organs we
                                 have eaten
the long fishing line of the so-called journey and taken its
                                 fine piercing into
                                 our necks backs hands it comes out our
mouths it re-enters our ears and in it goes
                                 again deep the dream
                                 of ownership
we count up everyone to make sure we are all here
                                 in it
                                 together, the only
                                 share-
holders, the applause lines make the
                                 tightening line
                                 gleam—the bottom line—how much
                                 did you think you
                                 could own—the first tree
we believed was a hook we got it
                                 wrong—the fox is still
                                 standing there it
                                 is staring it is
not scared—there is nothing behind it, beyond it—no value—
                                 the story of Eden:
                                 revision: we are now
breaking into the Garden. It was, for the
                                 interglacial lull,
                                 protected
                                 from
                                 us now we
                                 have broken
                                 in—have emptied all
the limbs the streaming fabric of
                                 light milliseconds leaves the now inaudible
                                 birds whales bees—have
in these days made arrangements to get
                                 compensation—from what
                                 we know not but the court says
                                 we are to be
                                 compensated
for our way of life being
                                 taken from us—fox says
                                 what a rough garment
                                 your brain is
you wear it all over you, fox says
                                 language is a hook you
                                 got caught,
try pulling somewhere on the strings but no
                                 they are all through you,
                                 had you only looked
down, fox says, look down to the
                                 road and keep your listening
                                 up, fox will you not
move on my heart thinks checking the larder the
                                 locks fox
says your greed is not
                                 precise enough.