Daily Archives: August 23, 2015

The Pig Tattoo King

Originally posted 9/21/2010.

I’ve met someone who spends his weekends liberally applying bacon grease to his arms and drawing swirls in it.

Wipes them off, draws them again.

He’s a map of bacon labyrinths.  

Calls himself the Pig Tattoo King. Says these are the maps to his domain. 

He leaves stains on everything. He stinks a bit. 

I’ve also met people who swill money like chocolate, coat themselves in dirty metals pulled from the ground, smell like rare flowers crippled with salt, build small honesty into huge lies to keep people guessing and off balance.

They leave stains on everything.

I place my faith in the Pig Tattoo King.  I honor his Kingdom of Making Do.  And I prefer the perfume of that place.


The Heron, Certainly


this may be your last day alive.


that this might be so
may cause you to cry out

that you’ve been wronged.


you may feel wronged
without crying out,

thinking of how time has robbed you.


if it is your last day,

seeing this last great blue heron
(if indeed this is the last one, the final heron)
offers a chance to make up for
the other, unappreciated ones
you’ve passed.

You realize
how you’ve been prepared for this:


you must realize 

that this may be the last chance you have to be whole,
to choose to see the bird as if there have been
no others, to see the bird as if only you could name it,
as if this sight is only meant for you;
and though you know you are wrong about that,


you understand at last

that what joy there is to take from being
is yours alone to choose. The world doesn’t care
what you do. The heron doesn’t care if you pay
attention. You have never been wronged by time,
only by your rushing through it —

and certainly,

there is that heron to learn from

with its one legged stance
in a low deadfall, perhaps
aware of you but unafraid to 
stand still, eyeing the water,
striking now and then;

missing then, catching now, 
not always successful

but never, ever wronged.