Some of us are just wilderness children…

Some of us are just wilderness children.

**

We have no patterns for relating across our human differences as equals.

        —Ibram X. Kendri

**

One has questions of course. It starts when you’re just old enough to despise Jacques Lacan. I don’t give a damn about the mirror as metaphor.

**

In the monastery at Velamo
I took a sauna bath with a monk
Who was one hundred years old
And in the steam his skin
Smelled like strawberries.
“What do you like to eat?” I asked.
“Strawberries,” he said.

**

And so the war doesn’t end
Though they promised the young
It would be so—the dreamlike president
Spoke from a cloud all Jehovah and shit
I’m with you he said we’re all in this he said
But if you looked closely

**

Tree children hiding…

**

It’s like Dante, everyone
Up to his or her neck
In a self loathing stew
And down at the peace and harmony shop
They’re eating butterfly wings…

**

It was good, I saw, to have a secret. Let the other kids with their baseball gloves and bats have at it in the field. I had Pagliacci.

**

I wish to explain myself
I don’t want to talk to others
Where is my home?
Where?

**

How he spends his life
Believing there’s another,
Standing on his own shoulders
Looking out to sea.

* 

Ghosts
In grass at dusk
Silly he thinks
A cricket animism

**

Late afternoon
Railway station
I’ve got Salvatore Quasimodo
Inside me
No one can see it

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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