the man who was the bull
who was the snake
sheds his skin
then rises up new once more
he wears the hide
that was buffalo
adjusts the mask
and becomes the deer
through the snout of wolf
through the eyes of owl
he knows this is the time
through the feet of bear he begins to move
a primordial stutter
a neolithic strut
a paleolithic grunt
a wide neanderthal smile
the new man is completed
as he staggers
to the crash
to the pound
to the beating of a drum
he is dancing above the plain
gives a cry to the beasts below
the moon is full
the moon is high
and tonight he has risen outside himself
to dance among the wandering herds
to call the beasts again
ki-aiy-aiy-ay
ki-aiy-aiy ay-aiy-aiy-aiy-ay
ki-aiy-aiy-o
ki-aiy-ay aiy-aiy-aiy-aiy-o
tonight
he has risen with the moon
to summon the hunt again
the beasts are still
the hunters wait
the shaman chants his music
across the plain
ki-aiy-aiy-ay
ki-aiy-aiy ay-aiy-aiy-aiy-ay
© Frank Prem, 2010
Interesting poem. I like the connotation of the shaman taking on so many facades. I can’t help but think of an interpretation. Does the shaman represent Trump?
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Ha, well, he just might, I suppose, though a different kind of magic at work, I suspect.
Cheers,
Frank
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