The Slinking Varmint

He feels like something

but

The slinking varmint

consists of nothing –

of the negative space –

the air 

can’t be captured

in a jar.

 

Unrelenting:

My pitiful attempt

to build;

always with a pained smile.

Rarely convinced

of my feigned serenity.

Aware

of the negative space –

the slinking varmint

that will topple it.

 

He may not.

He keeps slinking

onward.

Sometimes a growl.

Again, nothing:

the air,

the cracks,

the ultimate lack

of solid ground.

 

Topple.

Six days pass.

Tuesday, Jerry Springer;

A cup of coffee

“Everything’s going to be alright.”

I start again to build.

 

No, others merely start.

There’s an extra step,

a number of them:

1.    Observe how the human

performs the task.

2.    Mimic.

3.    Don’t let the growl 

be heard.

 

It feels good on my hand

after I form a block

to run to it along

the scratchy sand.

The space inside:

never nothing,

for the structure 

gives shape to the air.

That's where 

life plays out.

 

John's Book of Signs

forms structures.

One must go inside 

blindfolded,

stand in the middle,

smell the new wine

Jesus has made.

Don't take John's Word. 

 

I slept too late.

The tide will come.

 

I build.

Nearby a child

digs a hole.