Fiery crown belies your status as
Outlaw King.
Rapping out the rhythm on metal instead of wood
Never one for tradition.
Stacatto message-
Wake Up!
Wake up, life remains.
Wake up, rain comes
to feed the soil and soul.
Perched above the window
Hammering out delusions of return
from lost lands to empty hands.
How to return?
Rebirth as a bird, remnant of violence and rage
from great reptiles, annihilated.
Recycled in the clouds?
Striking bright and bold,
Thundering a point:
The rain was right all along.
Ripples in the puddle-
That’s all.
Realm of the hungry ghosts?
Craving sustenance, yet aware
food and drink won’t fill the gut.
Too starved, even, to haunt.
An Insect? Blessed with six legs.
An Octopus? Our spider of the sea.
Perhaps another chance as
dolphin rising through the ring.
Forgetting the rarity,
Searching again for a ‘me’.
The Woodpecker returns.
Argonite visitor,
Eternal victim to orgone.
Rapping out a futile rhythm-
Because there is no worm.
SR Atchley, 2012
SR Atchley 