Scarecrow Takes a Holiday

Scarecrow Takes a Holiday

Having neither organs nor neural impulses,
I no longer ask why or how I hear and smell,
taste and see, feel. This morning I woke
to magpie song and onion breeze, in
a body not mine, yet mine, at peace
on Jeju Island, far from my crows, yet
still among friends singing the same
language. I know this: home lives
within, and no matter where we travel,
it rides with us. Like the man who
spoke to me, bald, bearded, a pale
foreigner in this land, comfortable
here, at home. He listened for my reply,
but unfortunately I’d not been given
a mouth, and my words dropped to the
ground and were rolled away by
beetles before he noticed them.
Perhaps I should have written a note,
but he wished to gamble and how
could I refuse? I am hollow, but not
empty, whole, yet not complete,
away but here. He took a coin
from his pocket, flipped it. I saw…

A response to Daniel Paul Marshall’s “Scarecrow Travels (after Robert Okaji)”

21 thoughts on “Scarecrow Takes a Holiday

  1. Excellent. i pretty much gave up asking why is sense things too, i just do. i need to go find scarecrow & see if it wants to have a drink or at least amuse me by pretending. i think our comfortable state may be shared too. Cheers for this Bob, made my day.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Magnificent fun!

    On his holiday to the antipodal onion field, Scarecrow has taken his existence as dualistic monism to staggering, inspiring heights! As for his words, he can be sure (though, I’m not sure he’ll take comfort in that knowledge) that I swooped in to avail myself of their marvelous, little heads and tails before the beetles amassed their remnants into dung-balls…

    Liked by 2 people

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