I’ve got lots of personas, I have
because I’m a heartless big rock
with glorious and ruckus facets.
I’d been happily alone for eons
until they came and put a house on me.
It’s disgusting their use of me,
though it’s not as heavy as a mile of ice
I’m not used to the nervous energy
rapidly unlocking the Buddha within.
Not that I’ve not had trauma before,
after my flowing, hot birth.
I was quite rugged, jagged, masculine,
but things happened, I got buried many times
in ice and sea, meteor dust, dead trees,
and violated, scraped clean naked.
I’ve endured all sorts of crawling, creeping things,
then man came, a rather new creature,
and chopped pieces off of me.
Nothing’s been the same ever since.
The glacier’s scraping me was slow,
gave me curves, sinuous femininity
Now it’s all disturbance, and my avatars,
my fat guru face on top, my monks descending
watch them sitting on me, arguing,
bouncing on their beds, singular stuff.
But I find I’m liked; they care for me:
clean off the rubbish, groom my sides.
I’ll be sorry when they go, washed away
when they make the ocean rise..
I’ll miss their love
Kent Bowker Oct 1, 2012