I am reality,
screaming at you
from the rooftops.
I am the one who wishes you
all the fat hogs,
and the best harvest
you could want.
I am the
Dog,
nipping at your
haunches,
snapping
and snarling;
Possibly
in a
playful spirit.
Possibly.
May your
year
be fertile
and
wet,
with cicadas crowing
loudly, with the traffic
Roaring outside your window
drowning out the
voices
that tell lies and spew
filth like the way
I'm screaming truth
out your window.
HEY YOU!
DOWN THERE!
"That piece of shit is wearing headphones!
What's this world coming to, when one can't even
scream
at random people on the street?"
I am the bird
shit on WC Handy's
brazen, miniscule head
and I am
Odin asking one-eyed.
for a cigarette.
And I am Baldr at Mimir's well
gazing into the Eye of my
Father.
Hear in our
own tongues
the goddamn
creatures that
climb in the attic
and the blessed
Coyotes always
in wolf's clothing.
I am
you screaming
from the
rooftops.
