Shoo Fly
Does he belong as a slave or lover
to somebody? In any case, the fly
seems persistent, shooed off over
and over again. After the flood,
mud in the street, mud in the house,
mud squishing betwixt our toes
on muddy feet. Where there’s stink
there’s flies. Don’t bodder me,
we sang along with the brer rabbit
voice on the shellacked Bakelite
record, beating wood blocks together
the music teacher brought to help
us like music. For what is innocence
but unwilled ignorance? Does sin
originate in the seductive egg,
the sperm with its lustfully thrashing
tail, or that ghostly soul, optional
to systemized belief? I feel, I feel
like starlight, we sang those words
empty to us then while unknown to us
the world flooded and burned,
as it still does while we live last years
lit like the last lights still travelling
from long dead stars, knowing now
that we did know such splendor
only because we did not know
we knew it.
to somebody? In any case, the fly
seems persistent, shooed off over
and over again. After the flood,
mud in the street, mud in the house,
mud squishing betwixt our toes
on muddy feet. Where there’s stink
there’s flies. Don’t bodder me,
we sang along with the brer rabbit
voice on the shellacked Bakelite
record, beating wood blocks together
the music teacher brought to help
us like music. For what is innocence
but unwilled ignorance? Does sin
originate in the seductive egg,
the sperm with its lustfully thrashing
tail, or that ghostly soul, optional
to systemized belief? I feel, I feel
like starlight, we sang those words
empty to us then while unknown to us
the world flooded and burned,
as it still does while we live last years
lit like the last lights still travelling
from long dead stars, knowing now
that we did know such splendor
only because we did not know
we knew it.
