Jungle Man
By wild winter end and springtime eve
The raw harvest would come to heave
The apprentice’s eyes and scholarly arms
Took the dry reed and dark dense mud
And tempered with pins and needles and a rhythmic thud
To make a solid mark high above soft sand and river tide
The jungle man, the jungle man
Took to himself the splintered tools and ambition
And sought a stronghold where the green vines grow
Like the southern sea yearns for mangrove trees
By some uncalled feat of bravery and spite
He escaped an urban duel to feast with wild things
Weaved the richest silk and sowed the bitter opium
Grew the sharpest bamboo thicket alone
And once sat upon his laurels too long
That he never had the chance to see it bloom
Soon sinking into his throne of bayonets
Perhaps all that while he remained knowing
That blood and bone made fuel for Dante’s flames
And some day he would return to dance for their flicker
In the hallowed halls of champions comes a tremor
Of triumph and torment that he surely kept close
As he felt the message in squiggled wooden walls
So close to touch the untouchable
A phenomena so unutterable to those who did listen
Many days past your honor it rains in your rockpool
And the cinderblock and kerosene fail justice to your memory
At night, when you are found dreaming in the saddle boat
Making soft tremors that are carried to sea
Had you only known that your bait would catch a yield!
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