Wed 14 Apr, 2010 08:23 am
(time out the syllables)
Dead Deer Road
Hit, stabbed, not mild the eye surprised
Hand up, not registered, sun went pop
A falible hand, gesture volt, death is not.
How to know, something needs a short stop.
Stilled shock, instrument built interlock
Go to thought, view, see, look the road spits grit
Gravel imbed, a home not for anything
The hand is still not down, in front or ground.
Road shunted kinesis, i bear the brunt.
Falling for its pain, pulling out the eye
Did it know alone, a human concept
Individual, still sad for the solo death.
Was its own way, herd constituted home.
Palm then fingers, pressing the air for calm.
For knowing numb, rig- not settled its stay
View of discoveries, to end in rust
It must have been, recent no motor crush.
Weapon for speed, fur trimmed function lost.
Reason returns, the hand is mine again
Cognition motion, machiens get away
Forced today into delusions sway,
It was not hit, naturally caused death.
Resolve hope, that the human spectacle is,
Death confronted, leaves fronts speed quelled,
Lead to reconcile, for the paced long mile,
Of futures guide, got emergency stop.
A deer was left reminding the way home.
one of the things i really have a hard time dealing with in the developed world...here a dog can lay in the middle of the street and take a nap and everyone will drive around him carefully. they do get hit sometimes, but only because they make stupid mistakes.
so many more people in my world, yet we can live with the animals...but i think it's going to change. i wish there were no cars or airplanes...or guns or bombs...deer have enough things to worry about already.