Words for Wednesday 6/26

When the door claps its frame / the goat runs as if I were / bringing the world instead / of rotting squash.  His / strong teeth search / me for more - gently / as if he couldn't bear to know / that one world is all I have / to feed him - / and one is not enough.

When the door claps its frame / the goat runs as if I were / bringing the world instead / of rotting squash. His / strong teeth search / me for more – gently / as if he couldn’t bear to know / that one world is all I have / to feed him – / and one is not enough.

This may be my favorite sidewalk poem of those I’ve found.  It makes my insides ache.
I love the tone.  I read it aloud, in a whisper.  I love the feeling you’re left with.  I love that it makes me think of pets and goofy things, and then still has this “the sky is so big” type sting to it.
So first, the funny things:

This is a “Tina you fat lard” “Eat the food!” situation.  I mean, ok, the goat seems a lot more into being fed than Napoleon Dynamite’s llama.  Most animals are.  My cat is still pretty sure that my having fed him a handful of times at 5 am means he should get to eat every morning at 5 am.

Also, goats are pretty funny on their own.  Especially fainting goats.

So animals, and feeding them — pretty funny.
…Is one world ever enough?  One world feels simultaenously not enough and far too much.  We, in many belief systems, hold tight to the idea that there might be more than one world in some format.  Like the goat, we cannot bear to know if this is the only world, for fear it is really rotted squash or that we might be goats.

If only we were goats, treating facing every experience, even the rotted squash, as if it were the world.  Then, maybe, like the goat, we would always hunger for more, and one world would be more than enough.

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