Chidago Canyon Petroglyph
Identity Vs. Role Confusion
Chimes & drums from his room,
the beat, the magic, & more beat
stale in here, crack a window, get some air
when he does emerge, the sun stings his eyes
& he eats like a starved wolverine
teeth tearing at whole hunks of meat
hunched over his dish—
that look in his eye
He can’t wait to be free
he has no idea what that means
he doesn’t know what work is
& he has a hard time when things get hard
So he burrows underground
well, really, he just shuts his door
hides away, watches TV
then the beats start up again
Tries to watch the world work from his lair
can’t tell him anything
can’t think about tomorrow
has to learn it all his hard way
His jawline marks him for who he is:
a questing manchild
who needs & doesn’t need
my smothering love & worry
who wants & doesn’t want
to know his own mind:
hunter, poet, which path, which road?
The din, the bells, & always the beat
_____________
Rod Williams