Scarecrow Contemplates Pi
At the moment you snipped away
my reticence, I spoke so eloquently
that even the stones wept at your
indifference. As you arranged my
pose and buttoned the shirt
around the wire and fodder
replenishing my torso, I understood
your roots and mine should never
merge: transcendental, and in
collusion with the irrational, we
circles cannot be squared. And
how must I reconcile my unheard
words? The longer I speak the
greater their magnitude – a balloon
expanding in volume retains its
ratio – one day my words will sift
through your filters and you will
at last receive them. I pull this
particular comfort close – that
patterns and frequencies and
tendencies become law, that the
fleshless and soulless, the mute
and misunderstood, the powerless,
the different, nevertheless will be
heard. But what of love? How may I
contend to feel, to know that which
is your right? A nervous system
conducts electrical and chemical
impulses, yet lacking these, my
coreless heart sags at the thought
of your departure. I am no man.
Is this truly not enough?
“Scarecrow Contemplates Pi” first appeared with two companion pieces in Eclectica in summer 2016.
O at the Edges 
Scarecrow as circle not aligning amid pervasive squares … and within his (her?) circle a “coreless heart” sagging … my all-too-human heart wants to wrap Scarecrow with a hug letting my squareness flex and overlap the circled heart … though likely that would suffocate the wisdom circulating within Scarecrow. Alas, differences insist on persisting.
Thanks for adding Scarecrow perspective to my Saturday.
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I believe that Scarecrow would appreciate your squareness and accept your offer of kindness and empathy.
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Perhaps better not to be human. And Crow understands, certainly, and always has plenty to say to this human at least. The conduit? (K)
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Our backyard is included in the territory of a trio of crows. I love watching and listening to them.
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My morning crow occupies the top of the water tower on an adjoining building. Although he sometimes throws his voice from somewhere else and makes me look for him. And the park crows always talk to me around 103rd street. They keep an eye on us…
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