Birth Day Sticks
Wind and Trees
Standing in
the streets of wind and forest,
awed by the
tombs of the Persian Cyrus
and
Artaxerxes, son of Amestris,
I throw
sticks into the air
and watch
them fall
as random
wikiups,
naked of
animal hides
or birch
bark cloth:
the black
divining sticks,
the ebon
pilgrims of the cloud-walks;
fall to the
earth as a fishing net
and I will
be a fisherman.
Martyrs' Bay
North of
Kintyre, o’er the grey hills of Mull,
and above
the waters of Martyr’s Bay,
below St.
Columba’s monasteries,
I throw
sticks into the air
and watch
them fall
as Viking
battle ships
covered with
colorful shields
and spiked
with swords:
to plunder
rivers and treasuries;
they fall to
earth as a sailing boat
and I will
be a wanderer.
Our fate and
fortunes are sticks into the air,
where we
build our palisades and castles
in the
clouds of our dynamos of wooded dream.
Wikiup Under Melancholia
-----
notes
Life may seem random as sticks thrown into the air, but there may be a hidden pattern. We see futures in the patterns of the falling sticks.
I dreamed of Cyrus and his death and cypresses blown in the wind.
Someone mentioned Paul McCartney's birthday was July 5, so I began to think of Mull of Kintyre, which combined with St. Columba on the Island of Mull... which is not too far away, and which was invested by the Viking marauders.
My sticks fell down, and then recently they were thrown up again.
Hey!
Like the residue of Mowing Madness landscapers!
John Deere industrial mowers and the clash of engines...
