The Hominid Birthing

The Ecology of Knowledge

Every night, in my dreams, the cats would dance around me and make me vomit. This was before I realized that kittens and cats were related. I learned to like cats later in life when I was twenty something. I got the punch line to those darkful cats at a little bookstore in South Bend, IN. This guy named T.S. Eliot I read in a modernist class was responsible for the cats. I understood him to be a funny man.

Sometimes, like right now, when I get a request from an old friend, one I can’t quite place the name of, I put my fingers together and make a hole so that I can only see their eyes. I peer through the hole…there is Alison J I see her now! My dad told me that you always look people in the eyes when you talk to them. There was a time when I learned that you eventually have to look away. I don't remember anyone from that time. My old friend Josh told me that the eyes are the windows to the soul. He would move his eyes around in search for my soul until I smiled with joy. We smiled a lot. Some people get nervous when you look for their soul. The Cats abused me when I was little so now I let everything stare into me, I just don’t vomit anymore—I have a cat’s body too.

When I was three or four I wouldn't eat until someone pet me and put my food on the floor. Ruby, the old neighbor lady always pet me. She showed me how to eat an acorn. “A little bitter,” she said as we chewed. Another time, in animal, I built a bird nest in the evergreen next to Ruby’s apartment. I played in my nest all week until the maintenance man came along and said, “Get the hell out of that tree boy!” Ruby had been dead inside all week. That was the day they found her body.

Around every dying old lady is a cat. Around every cat is a dying bird. On the outskirts of every town, village and city there is a boy, a girl in the treescape being asked to come down and into the human.

The Monsters

Boo-boo the One-eyed Caribou communicates telepathically with Birdie the Red-Tailed Hawk of Ithaca.

You can click here to watch Birdie LIVE!

The Elk Cyborg

The Elk Cyborg

I poke my animal profile from the sudden darkness of the river. The tree-locks stare. The hallow bones howl. In the magnetite skyscape, the vestigial eye socket dreams crystalline, prismatic. The tapping of hooves—The Coming of Legs. The Bird Lady hovers out the altocumulus and the elk chimes are dredging. We move into the blood rain, the blood moon fabric, the animal box, a bizarre abduction, the abdominal mass, zone of rock, flowage zone, zone of fracture, claw of earthworm, earth of bird-mass, meat, space and moan.

The Accumulation

Follow the umbilical waterways in the steelhead spawning—vomit your dog-lily profile out the mouth of the river—a frog movement in the protein layer. The sound of a crescent moon and the lake tilts its body into sky—deep fur surging. 
surging
deep fur surging          surging
deep giant squid movement—octopus phonetics wolfish glottal wolf-fish CLANK!
clank suckle clank!
(((SURGE))) let
out let squid let urine et
Reef suckle, CLANK!
awwoooo aww wwoo aww aw wooooo
alt alto cue accu,
Surging
Accu!
Fur surge,
Accu!