Scarecrow Considers the Afterlife

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Scarecrow and Friends

Scarecrow Considers the Afterlife

Gathering threads, I join them with a central
knot, producing a sunburst flower or constellation
of ley lines spreading forth and connecting their
tenuous truths – megalith to fjord, solstice to
dodmen and feng shui, suppositions entwined
and spat out. And who’s to say which alignment
stands taller than the next, which rut, which energy,
defines our direction? When I cease to be, will I
remain or dissipate, return in another form or
explode and scatter throughout the universe, the
residue of me sizzling along the starways for eternity
or perhaps just the next twenty minutes. It is clear
that I possess no heart, no internal organs. My spine
is lattice, my skin, fabricated from jute. Eviscerate
me and straw will tumble out. I do not bleed. Yet
the crows consult me in secret and conduct their
daily mercies, and I think and dance and dream
and wonder and hope. Oh, what I hope.

* * *

This was first published at Eclectica, with two companion pieces.

44 thoughts on “Scarecrow Considers the Afterlife”

  9. i remember this. The squeezing of time from Scarecrows perspective “the / residue of me sizzling along the starways for eternity / or perhaps just the next twenty minutes” has that dissipating feel, i can’t rightly remember now, but i picked up on it in another of your poems recently, the dissolution of things, i suppose an inversion of your matter reforming.

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  16. Spectacular. Some many excellent word choices here, words that looks good and feel good to say (like “megalith” and “fjord” and “jute” and “dissapate.” I also love ” Yet/the crows consult me in secret and conduct their/daily mercies…” The spirit was certainly moving through you with this one. So nice to read fine poetry first thing in the morning. : )

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