a refrigerator is hilarious
a refrigerator is hilarious, this computer is a trip, electricity is a riot, our car is a fun toy,
this soft living makes me a butterfly in a warm glass house, no scorching sun, no wind or storm, no raindrops.
So I find the vent and escape…for a bit.
When my hands are rolling clay, scraping down a bow, fletching an arrow, harvesting dogbane stalks, mouth softening a string of sinew,
when splashing naked unashamed, in the creek with every other naked living thing crawling, flying, swimming around me
its at these moments, ancient memory rips me to the bone, and i see through the lies of the big glass house.
i remember me! a true human walking with feet touching the earth, reaching for berries, alert to every sound and sensation.
ahh…so this is who I am, son of true human-beings walking here, loving here, killing here, dying here for 1000s of years.
Walking twisting an elm bark string, sitting flaking a piece of creek chert, twirling a spindle into fire…. now they are all around me.
I return to the glass house through the vent…walk past the silly refrigerator, to this funny computer… and miss them…already