The Dreaming Soil

The wolf sees the man as meat

A means to hunger’s end

The x-ray sees the man as bone

What he is, but does not comprehend

The fly sees the man as stone

Ancient beyond the fly’s years

The worm waits for the man to be soil

Oblivious to any and all of his fears

The soil is a measure of time

Baking under the blazing unforgiving sun

The worms live in the layers of history

Where everything silently dreams as one

Gene G. McLaughlin 2016

Ouroboros

The world tries to hollow me out

I respect the world’s prerogative

Its capacity for the positive endless

Its pursuit of the negative flawless

It’s ceaseless attempts to consume

The I, the who, the whom

Tracking ruthlessly on my scent

Form of

Food, taxes, utility bills and rent

On the worst of days

I drift away

Most days I just sway

Starting to protest, to say . . .

but I know the snake knows anyway

The devouring serpent

Is aware of

It’s destiny

Soil

And oil

And meat

Becoming that

Treading

Beneath our feet

Today though

I am half swallowed

Head turned toward the sun

The snake and I as one

I do not face the snake

Making the bastard wait

Gene G. McLaughlin 2015