Hanuman and the Hoopoe
Monkey-god Hanuman hangs out
on my shoulder since descending
from a tree as I crossed a dusty
and stupid-busy street very close
to the Red Fort in Old Delhi years
ago. These days he's quite confused
at the pin-feathers emerging
from my fingertips & knuckles,
growing since the wind chanting
Akkadian words swirled overhead
mimicking the soaring Hoopoe
born long ago on a limestone cliff
near the Zagros Mountains glacier,
just south of where language began.
on my shoulder since descending
from a tree as I crossed a dusty
and stupid-busy street very close
to the Red Fort in Old Delhi years
ago. These days he's quite confused
at the pin-feathers emerging
from my fingertips & knuckles,
growing since the wind chanting
Akkadian words swirled overhead
mimicking the soaring Hoopoe
born long ago on a limestone cliff
near the Zagros Mountains glacier,
just south of where language began.
Kim Peter Kovac works nationally and internationally
in theater for young audiences with an emphasis on new play development and
networking. He tells stories on stages as producer of new plays, and
tells stories in writing with lineated poems, prose poems, creative
non-fiction, flash fiction, haiku, haibun, and microfiction, with work
appearing or forthcoming in print and on-line in journals from Australia,
India, Dubai (UAE), England, Scotland, Singapore, South Africa, and the USA,
including The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Red Paint Hill, Elsewhere,
Frogpond, Mudlark, and Counterexample Poetics. He is fond of avant-garde jazz,
murder mysteries, contemporary poetry, and travel, and lives in Alexandria, VA,
with his bride, a Maine Coon cat, and two Tibetan Terriers named Finn and
Mick. @kimpeterkovac - www [dot] kimpeterkovac [dot] tumblr [dot] com
Tags:
Poetry