When I was small I lived in the woods. An incident occurred. I was told there was no doctor. So a man who was passing through sewed my hands, and the back of my calf, with the coarse unruly hair of his dog. It served fine for years.
Now I am older. My hands have carried burden. They are eager to work. the skin around each tangled stitch is red and inflamed. I gnaw at the loose strands impatiently. Causing myself great pain. The dog hairs break in place, under the skin. I learn to be more deliberate. Soon they are all gone except for the thickest, most embedded one. I try to ignore it. It worsens. ...
When I am finished at last, I think of my leg. It is un-bothered by my makeshift mend. Do I remove them in case they should turn one day?
I can not. I have grown to love my shameful flaw. I want to keep the secret in tact in the event that I meet someone with which to share it. It's my hideous reminder. I did not choose this body and never much cared for it. It's purpose only to carry my wild heart from one thing to the next.
Terry stole the elephant instinctively. For reasons she could not articulate, she knew that the calf did not belong here in this common place zoo exhibit. It's mother was not it's mother. It was undoubtedly special and she was it's mother. She felt this as fact. She would take them both to Topeka KS. They would hide out and help one another to grow.
Terry raised the elephant reactively. Standing in the aisle of the second hand store, Terry scanned for items an elephant calf would need. She bought it a pink pen to sleep in. Terry did not know how to determine the sex of an elephant. Neither did she consider much the reason why colors had been assigned gender. She did suspect, however, that this applied to human beings more so than pachyderm beings and decided the elephant would be sufficiently comfortable it's new bedding that she personally found quite attractive.
Over time, Terry was torn as to whether the elephant should remain inside their Kansas home or that it should be allowed out of doors. In the zoo, her charge had occupied a habitat that was partially composed of both. She pondered. The zoo had most likely gotten it wrong. After all, the elephant had not belonged there. It upset Terry to think of the elephant out in the elements while she was dry by the fire. Albeit, it gave her guilt when she imagined the elephant's looks towards the yard next door were of longing. Terry determined that she would keep the elephant in the house, away from the nosy neighbors and therefore near to her.
The elephant became a picky eater. Terry had prepared it macaroni with cauliflower since the day they had arrived in Topeka. Terry especially loved to grow cauliflower in her garden. The purple leaves reminded her of the nail polish her sister used to wear. The rows of Terry's garden were kept with a kind of order that she could not maintain in the house. When the elephant was misbehaving and would refuse to leave the formal dining room, she would lure it back towards the pink pen with slivers of cheddar cheese. The elephant began to demand cheddar on the macaroni as well. In efforts to save the good china, Terry switched to slivers of swiss. She began to budget for the asiago and gruyere that would surely follow.
The elephant had not wrapped it's trunk around Terry's arm in quite some time. Terry daydreamed about the life the elephant would be having in the zoo. Surely, it would miss cauliflower and leaning on the shaking clothes dryer to distort the sound of it's trumpeting. At night, Terry dreamt also of her life before the trip to the zoo. She had lived in a downtown flat with her sister which had had such a fabulous patio for parties.
Terry doubted herself more and more often. Why had the calf seemed so out of place? She recalled the way it's ears had seemed comically bigger than it's small body. Such a unique and vulnerable creature had needed her care, had not had any business behind the bars of an impersonal zoo and was certainly not property to be put on display for the amusement of the many. Sorting through these feelings, trying to remember back to the beginning of her life with the elephant made Terry unbearably drowsy. As she drifted off she made to them a silent promise; Tomorrow they would try havarti.
To get to work each morning I cross a set of train tracks in an industrial part of town. While making my way today, I thought to myself: Boy, I sure hope I'm not delayed in my journey. In this very same instant I noticed some other immovable something in the road.
A Lone Goose.
All out of his element. Standing perfectly still. With this look on his fowly face that said; You bet your mammalian ass I'm an omen.
My coworker said it's about perceived obstacles.
Aunt B says to bear in mind that: "Geese are the only ones who shit more than they eat."
Here is this goddamn Loris, you see…
…And on average he is only 17-40cm long. He is a funny looking dude, dude! And easily overlooked.
Scientists don’t know how he feels because he doesn’t speak English, but Loris-Lovers may assume he is sad to be small and possibly a little hungry for a gnat or something.
Let’s be clear-this guy is a wild fucking animal, guy. But there are pictures all over the interwebs of him clinging his fragile, goofy self onto human fingers.
“Imagine!” Say the Loris-Lovers, “to be hoisted overhead on the hands of man.” To be purposefully made to feel large by a series of small acts.
Scientists can not measure such a thing. It is invaluable. But they do know that the grasp of a loris cannot be moved without significant force.
[I am grateful for you]
The sacred scarab. The Heiroglyph symbol for transformation
The oldest, grooviest, most existential pest. The Egyptian God Of The Rising Sun.
Exactly how does he do his hallowed voodoo?
He conjures it with Poo.
He is a dung beetle whose guerilla ritual is to dispose of the shit. His dung-ball represents the sun itself. His journey, the renewal of the horizon day after day.
His metaphysical message; It’s not all crap.