04-21-2016, 10:52 PM
All My Chickens
Quiet under the hand, soft rumple of feathers.
Low questioning bawk announces an egg. Loud squawk demands food, now.
Running in random around the chicken yard,
scattered by loud noise or anything, really.
Tight in cages.
Pecking. Fighting. Drawing blood. Eating bugs. Me first no me!
Roosters with heel spurs, set at each other for bets.
Hung up by the feet, naked, plucked, in Chinese markets.
Flesh swimming in soup.
Kentucky Fried.
Dinner on the ground, with biscuits and gravy.
Baby chicks dyed pink and purple for Easter. The start of a fun life.
Thump of axe on stump, head flops away.
Pecking around the stump later, for bugs.
Cuneiform footprints.
Warning! Intruders! Fox! Someone comes! The sky is falling!
Chicken: one name of fear.
Why cross the road? It's all right here, samsara, nirvana, same same.
Once across, invisible. No one even knows.
We leave you this wishbone. Use it well.
________________________________________________________________________________________
"Dinner on the ground" is a custom US country churches used to have (some still do I guess) where sometimes in summer the congregation would prepare a picnic for after Sunday service, which they would share on the church grounds. Fried chicken was always a prominent menu item at such affairs.
Quiet under the hand, soft rumple of feathers.
Low questioning bawk announces an egg. Loud squawk demands food, now.
Running in random around the chicken yard,
scattered by loud noise or anything, really.
Tight in cages.
Pecking. Fighting. Drawing blood. Eating bugs. Me first no me!
Roosters with heel spurs, set at each other for bets.
Hung up by the feet, naked, plucked, in Chinese markets.
Flesh swimming in soup.
Kentucky Fried.
Dinner on the ground, with biscuits and gravy.
Baby chicks dyed pink and purple for Easter. The start of a fun life.
Thump of axe on stump, head flops away.
Pecking around the stump later, for bugs.
Cuneiform footprints.
Warning! Intruders! Fox! Someone comes! The sky is falling!
Chicken: one name of fear.
Why cross the road? It's all right here, samsara, nirvana, same same.
Once across, invisible. No one even knows.
We leave you this wishbone. Use it well.
________________________________________________________________________________________
"Dinner on the ground" is a custom US country churches used to have (some still do I guess) where sometimes in summer the congregation would prepare a picnic for after Sunday service, which they would share on the church grounds. Fried chicken was always a prominent menu item at such affairs.