Captured Notions

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She talks to me through her brown-&-orange-striped scarf

Nanny-knuckles of bunny fluff spring to life with each breath

because she raises rabbits on her mother’s farm east of Olympia

for food, for pets, for cat companions; plus she’s studying at college

an older than average student, she says, though younger than some

 

Her hair is a revenge movie of traps, sharp angles, & splatter effects

It hooks me; slitting me open from throat to navel, a tasty fresh fish

I feel myself filling with synthetic taxidermic stuffing, to a lifelike effect

with all senses alive and working, yet immobile; a hare in her headlights

another piece in a statue’s parade; she’s capturing human sounding boards

and we become bunnies—for food, for pets, for cat companions

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Farm Life

Chairs! The fire says,
Stand empty.

Over the Hedgerow

Rabbit, hedgehog & dewy-eyed beetle, it is time to communicate again
Broken horses, stop churning your hearts into butter
We are pasture fed on things grown in rows and ground in metal vats
Debate this now!
Yearn beyond the shelf and icebox;
Close them up
Turn them off
For what do you toil?
Not cardboard, never plastic
Look back
Look forward
Flesh on the unpruned branch, the tangled and unruly vine dangling inconveniently;
Flesh galloping on untamed earth under darkened woods,
These will release us.
Strive for them now!
Throw off,
Rear back,
Dig out from under.
Stall is cage
Walls prison
Doors never lead out, only deeper in
Look to our pampered and misused hands
What weapons these?
Not endless tools for the trade of those in power; not digits for profit production
Look to our fingers!
Wiggle them in air not tempered
Flex and open them to sun, wind & rain
Curl them into a fist to further our due purchase in their blunt arguement.
The communication of flesh, bone & blood is not office bound, nor industrial garden fed
It is weather torn!

Stand now, animals like me,
Tear the two-dimensional face from that book
It is not thee.

Bumrush the Future My Troff Feeders

Animals of the feeding troff!

Look over here now.

You’re not a vegetable in the garden.

Mammal spirit’s got no roots that can’t be relaid.

Pull yourselves up and walk about as was intended by the quick that grows your nails.

Slap your face with rushing mountain waters, there’s magic in motion.

Ain’t a sin to mutate. Ain’t a crime to mix with mud and run with a coyote clan.

Look to the sky and shout your tears wailing high over clouds to gold. Howl thy belly out to moon and stars.

Canis latrans persists in navigating shattered landscapes and enemies galore. And so can you, bucket feeder!

Gaze over ocean’s breadth. Peer at the Bur marigold of Eurasia floating in the distance over the seas. It lives a temperate life. It spreads its seed wide. For even the unmoving things of Earth are movers.

Spread wide, animals of the troff! Cease not your youthful yearnings of discovery. Adventure is your forward motivator. Desire, your catalyst to insight.

Collecting, staying, hoarding — these are bad habits most demeaning to nature. Nature grows when all are in fluid motion like electrons’ spirit dancing.

Be everything, troff licker, at every time everywhere. NOW. For your inaction is tantamount to genocide!

Bumrush our future.