CARTWHEEL
The flaming rides are arcing high over some
swift religious circumference : little tumbleweed,
broken green tree. I awoke in the morning air,
held up my head to see what was there, and
saw nothing. My blackest cloak beckoned. Wild
men were cutting trees with noisy saws and fiery
stump grinders pealed and whined. I was there.
-
When I was nine I was taught Nature's prayer by
the very sweet lady who visited me there. Her face
was almighty and her visage was fair. 'I am the Mother
of all this World. Take from me, but harm me not.'
I bowed to the lady I vowed to.
-
Now, ten million years later, some humpback is
situating a yellow tractor on a brown dirt mound.
I myself want to main and kill, somehow, just to
see what it's like. And it wouldn't be a tree.
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