Pigs chortle the same
in every language, rumbling
no longer rendered—
low fidelity—
as vowel and consonant,
but as a snort of
mud, gnawed sassafras
and blunt odors of coupling
never nameable
anyway. Nearby
humans occupy themselves
rolling around in
the cool shade, straining
to fold head to crotch.
Filed under: Angst, Dreams, Extinction, Haiku, Haiku Sonnets, Human Nature, Identity, Knowledge, Musings, Novelty, Poetry, Silliness, Sonnets, Writing
Haunting, vivid images. This line caught my imagination: “Nearby/humans occupy themselves/rolling around in/the cool shade, straining/to fold head to crotch.” Thank you for the posting.
This poem wasn’t as quiet and circumspect as usual, and I wondered whether I should post it. Finally I decided that’s why I SHOULD. Thank you for your comments. —D
Very interesting use of haiku. I really like the strong and disdainful link between pigs and humans.
Thanks! I’m really stretching it to call these haiku. Though they have the proper number of syllables, I’m not sure haiku are quite so disdainful. However, I can’t imagine even the haiku masters avoided cynicism altogether. Thanks for visiting. —D