Friday, June 05, 2009

"When I become Death, Death is the seed from which I grow."

Ah Pook, The Destroyer.

I wonder about it, often even.

What is it that makes me want to destroy?


The same as love, I guess.

"The mockingbird had been following the cat.
all summer
mocking mocking mocking
teasing and cocksure;
the cat crawled under rockers on porches
tail flashing
and said something angry to the mockingbird
which I didn't understand.

yesterday the cat walked calmly up the driveway
with the mockingbird alive in its mouth
wings fanned, beautiful wings fanned and flopping,
feathers parted like a woman's legs,
and the bird was no longer mocking,
it was asking, it was praying
but the cat
striding down through centuries
would not listen.

I saw it crawl under a yellow car
with the bird
to bargain it to another place.

summer was over."

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