Wednesday, June 29
POEM Bear took a walk in the woods. Then he found a banana. He liked the ring of it. (It was a telephone.) He thought it nice to chase that sound. A parrot from a palm said Over there in French and made bananas dear to him. What? Through language he had never spoken? There were many words for the words he was given. There was baba and nana. There was living far and living near. There was the trick of making this from that. Which felt like a rush. Like he'd hardly been a cub at all. Was never told Don't put that in your mouth. Or, young again, had finally learned to part honeybee from its sting. So his heart went brrring, brrring through the forest. And we are left to hear it leave, like a laugh does. Or be left, like a rind. (Bill Carty)