On long days inside I wonder,
Behind all that matter(s),
Is there a Fund of things
With its mouth agape
That we fall back into?
Churned up, ingested by God,
Do we satisfy?
Or does the divine vomit,
Bring up as cud,
Us, ruddy creatures
From that muddy fund,
Full but not sated?
One thing is certain:
More chewing.
On long days outside I kneel.
Matter has no “behind”
Other than the one we’ve created
In this earth, stinking mouth agape,
Swallowing and expelling us also.
Kneeling, churning soil,
I am satisfied.
As for the Fund of things,
Brought up as cud,
I, too, chew and ingest the divine,
As my part goes,
Not full but sated.
All things are certain:
This great material fund into which we fall.
Might we be brought up again?
—
So I’ve been working with a concise, vivid, specific set of images, hoping to collect them into a short piece. But… instead I filed them and posted yet another reflection full of abstraction and philosophy. Well, chew it.
MKS
Raw Skimmed Milk 