A Poem

Note: I wrote this a while back, and it's been hibernating since then. I still like it.

archetype: rock god

He knows how to party. He knows how to feed chickens. There’s a myth here somewhere, but it’s up to you to find it.

Once upon a time there was a man whose face was a clarification. Once upon a time he gathered up his wits and dropped them, one by one, into the jet stream. He carved with a shiv, a shank, a thick arc of bone and precision, leaving an absence. Once upon a time there was a man who knew how to party, how to empty the tree of its fruit, how to shoot across the bow just low enough to warn, to alarm. Once upon a time there was a man who scattered feed, sparking frenzy, a mad pop of feathers which he later used to pick his teeth. He straddled momentum, dipping in like a baptism, just short of drowning. Once upon a time, there was a man who was only.

He knows how to party. He knows how to feed chickens.

He knows how to tie things up.