Feeling Sorry for Myself While Standing Before the Stegosaurus at the Natural History Museum in London
on REM Zoe Lara (in India) (India), 09/Nov/2010 03:17, 34 days ago
Oh yes my friend, I've been there: the insects battering atthe armored lids of your yellowish eyesthe moment you pecked your way out of that rotten shelland dug out from your sandpit nest.....And I've experienced the thud thud thud of your days,the indigestible monotonyof everything's spiny orangy-green husk. How the sungets daily whiter and hotter and justa little bit closer. The week spent gobbling down yourown weight's worth of whatever. One stumpyfootprint after another, tracking the trackless, squelchingacross last night's marsh into a volcano-spattered todayhip-deep in ash and yawninga muzzleful of sulfur. Swishing through stiff fronds,we drag an unbearable load of tombstones on our backand a fat lugubrious tail, shit-smutched andspiked. The flattening of the razor grass. The forgottenclutch of eggs. Our shrill yapsand groans. That tiny gray walnutfor a brain and the fat black tongue tough as a bootsole.....They've explained us away a dozen times: some passingmeteorite or another, the rat-like mammalseating our pitiful young, all kindsof new weather. Issueless, but far too stupid to be forlorn,we trundle along the pink quartz shoreto sip at the lukewarm edge of yet another evaporating sea.- Michael Derrick Hudson, New Ohio Review, Autumn 2010