Friday, April 13, 2012

squatch thoughts, siks

Listen, men! I holler what men know. I holler what men walk away from. Listen!

Swamp shuddered, men, swamp exhaled. A dank mist swelled from swamp lung into earth air, men. A body stood there, the swamp’s breath, a dark form near the trees, and I strode toward it, men, and I entered it. Me, fully formed in four long steps. I burst from the murk there, men, from mist into body, from breath into life. Like that, men, easy. Me! I holler. I did not search, men, I found. 
Men, you seek form. Holler that! Men did not walk into men form, as I walked into mine. You walked toward it, men, millions of dank steps. Walked out of water into muck onto land and up into the trees, men, up into the green clouds of the tree crowns! You men were men then—ape, for true.
Up there in the leaf rain, men, you rose toward the sun. Holler that! Bare teeth and bounce on tree branch, men, make the green cloud tremble. Holler, tumble, swing, men— be men, men; be ape. Keep to the green cloud, men. Swing through the trees, men, don’t slip; keep to the branches, men, don’t fall. Holler to the sky, men, swing toward the light, branch up, men, and up again. Your form found.

Yet slip men did; yet fall you fell, men. Drawn from trembling tree crowns to hard ground. Branch bouncing left no footprints, men; you want evidence, men, of your own importance. Footprints, you holler! See there, you holler! There, you stub-finger point: A footprint! Me, you holler, my form found!
me, you holler! my house!
Out of the green rain you jump to earth, men; from out of the sky and onto the homeground you jump, men; you leave footprints to measure your importance. You leave midden pile monuments to your form, men, piles of rocks and bones and the shit of what you ate, men, as evidence of your importance: Your footprints.
Where you find them footprints, men, you dig holes and then, men, you fill them holes with houses. You build yourself back inside trees, men, houses made from dead branches. I see trees, you see houses.  Still the ape, men, yet now hidden from light and the green rain. Look at that hole, you holler, that house is my footprint!

But I see what you walk away from, men.
I see houses become cities, men, and cities become nations. I see nations become wars, men. Don’t walk away from that, men! Let me holler now. Listen!
War is a towering dead tree, men, the form of your footprint, evidence of your importance. You make war, men, you make graves: monuments to the footprints of dead men. 

your true footprint is a dead tree, men

Men, I shake my head. Listen. Footprints are empty graves, men, monuments to the true form of men, war. Men, I holler! Men, I bare my teeth.
Listen! Spring back to the greencloud of tree crown, men, spring back into the green rain! Walk away from the form you found, men.

Walk away, men. Your footprints are dead nations.