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Sturgeons | Poem

 

STURGEONS

andi get to swim with the sturgeons in-between
whatrhapsodies cold fish inspire
nudgingthese numb dumb dangling limbs of sleep

they'reso old they remember having legs
phantomlimb pain is part of their holdings
adominion they can elect to dispense

howhip are they anyway
dotheir nervous systems superconduct
downthere in the cold and the solid state darkness

maybethey are able to do both
readand write to cellular memory
archivingtheir ontology
withproteins stringing years of meaning
informingthe germ
takingtheir slow and delicate turns
withbits emitting photons as they bond

maybethey keep up with inner sight
andtheir living light
isnot prone to blink like ours is
theydo seem to read everything
andwith no rosetta stone
suggestingtheir knowing has never been lost

maybethey don't get brain-wiped every ice age
dumbeddown by all that cutting and running
thencrowded off the edge like lemmings
onlycatching on to their free falling essence
asthe end of the race hurdles up to meet them

onceall our hardware
andall our monuments are subsumed
maybedazed dropouts from armagedon
stumbleand fumble the next sprint in the marathon
survivingearth's little whim for adornment in ice

floatingbeside me in my stugeon dreams
sheseems most like a mother worrying her wedding band
ina sulk to make a few dreamers breed true again
turningthe zone of lives still possible
aroundthe equator
oneday at a time
whilethe rest of each hemisphere
istwo miles deep in frozen tears

beforethe last time
notmuch on record of our kind
justthe inscrutable babble of lucky lemmings
whoin the narrowing race
oncesqueezed through the neck of hourglass
weremerely mostly stunned by the fall
bylanding last on grim heaps of heartbreak
thetop of that pyramid
evennow routinely seen on bills
andwhen the eye winks
thethread of continuous glories drops a stitch

envythe sturgeons their seamless fabric
intheir neural nets
draggingboth dark and luminous times
millennialchanges that have left us swamped
areonly eddies in their gossamer wakes

onwhat inspiration
meetingup with them in the trackless deep
doesstunned flotsam feeling bumps in the night
tryto join in the blessing before the bite

-Robert Erman

copyright 1999

toRobert  ~  to Moongate


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