Old Bones
Out there walking around, looking out for food,
a rootstock, a bird call, a seed that you can crack
plucking, digging, snaring, shagging
barely getting by,
No food out there on dusty slopes of scree --
carry some -- look for some,
go for a hunger dream.
Deer bone, Gall Sheep,
bones hunger home.
Out there somewhere
a shrine for the old ones,
the dust of the old bones,
old songs and tales.
What we ate -- who ate what --
how we all prevailed.
Gary Snyder
in Mountains and Rivers Without End
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2 comments:
I'm kind of scared of this. Are the eggs in my cookie dough some hen's babies? Was my mickey d's hamburger made from some little kid's pet? Where does the madness end?? When I become a pile of old bones? But then I can provide nutrition for some vulture's chicks. It's all good.
marty, I hate to break it to you, but you also drink dinosaur pee! this world we live in is a closed system, and everything in it just keeps goin' round and round.
life is loopy!
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