Pliny, the elder, heard
About beavers
And their magical testicles
From a vagrant
Russian merchant.
On his bestiary
He also praised unicorns
And the naked
Gymnosophists
Of the far Orient;
The vagabond sages
Who only ate
Once a year
And beans at that!
(Like my mother used to say:
“Everywhere in the world
People eat beans.”)
One of these hierophants
Spoke for trees
And interpreted
Their seed spread
As omens.
(Some truth to that:
Seed pods harbinger
Drought and merry times.)
Yes, Pliny
Wrote what he heard
And wrote much of it
So much that my toponymic
Ancestral brethren,
In Hispania Tarraconensis,
Wanted it all that wisdom
For themselves.
By Mark Miller © 02/19/2014
Compass of memories held loosely
Misdirection pointing in iota
Exquisitely anchored hangs an eminent noose
Minds of subdivisions wage illusion of wars in retribution
Fragments estranged states out of place in time and space
Mirrors alone in fears absent of frames reflect emotions after forever
Autobiographical absence in self reflect sedimentary memory
Shattered pieces held together through novel history of cursed metaphor
Reference into live characters pretense lies symbols scorn design of substance.
Features sensations realism in dreams creation a demons personification;
Subserviently locked behind shades shadows seeks the many repentance,
Fate of shame determines designation into bestiary summons
If offered crown of thorns I refuse,
Defacement of natures subliminal defiance
Diffused screams of thunder leaves pride aside embracing dark's grace,
In nearness lies the wait in reality's unconsciousness,
The gradual self-effacement of my dead.
The chimera of
yours, the only unextinct
creature in your bleak
bestiary; that's
what I really am:
formed from one-half love
and one-half throe by
you. But I recognized my
borders by learning
your limits for I
wish to forge my own path out
from your false mythology.
love sonnet #155
love's bestiary is anything but sedentary
always turning, flippin' across life's pages
yet the primary driver placed as secondary
primed motivation oft desires to disengage
like the origin of the *****sapien we search
for the origins, of our own loving lives
to feel that again, where two lives converge
circumference around the pain toward the blithe
is love such an implausible thing to ponder
holding our breath 'cause we're breathin' oxygen?
leaving us burning with confusion and wonder
consuming desire, that we disavow what has been
love is all it's own, despite any poet's sonnets
to wordly worldly explain, and elucidate upon it
© Goode Guy 2012-05-17
http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/bestiary
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