02/26/2026
A Quaint Poem From the Ever-verse
February 26, 2013
The Greyhouse
I'd like to be a squirrel
For an hour, maybe two,
To feel their gymnastic power,
And see a squirrel's eye view
I'd spring and bounce through the trees
A jolly jumping ball of fur
So fast, I'd be a blur.
I'd like to be a sparrow
For a whole entire day,
To navigate the clouds
On the Welkin Freeway.
I'd be able to see the sun
Slip the horizon from above
I'd be able to fly with my friend, the Dove
I'd be able to drag-race dragonflies
And eat to my heart's content,
All the sunflower seeds
On this one-day-to-be-a-bird event.
I would like to be a snail
For an afternoon, or two
To appreciate how wonderful
It feels to be through,
After slow-sliding my way
Across the carport to the wall,
Where I would hunker down
For the night
To eat my snail stew.
I would like to be a tiger
Named Orion
I'd end my life
In a fight to the death
With a lion,
To prove who between us
Is the one true king
Of the jungle.
After he died, I, too
Would end with a roar
With my teeth, I'd stab,
Then die beneath the giant baobab.
And they would write:
Here lies The One True King of Laws
He of stripes and ferocious claws.
I would like to be a zebra,
Black and white,
I would like to be a spider monkey,
Cause they are like humans,
But not quite.
I would like to be a tree,
To hear all unpublished secrets
Whispered in the wind
To stay up
All day and night,
For years on end
And know what it feels like
To live on starlight.
I would like to be a rich man,
To be loved for what I got
Mansion, Jet, & Yacht.
No longer cursed and beat and shot.
I would like to be a god,
To have people pray to me
I'd set them on my knee
And have them call me BoB
You can spell it back or forward
And yet it remain the same
So nobody then could be
Confused about my name.
But of all the things
I could be
There is only one
And that is me.
The problem with that is
Who knows who they are?
The Ever-verse keeps changing,
And constantly rearranging
And so, too, we do,
Like nebulae and star.
We know not the full detail
Of who we are or what we can become
But for just a little while
We can wonder about it some.
Maybe, after all
I am squirrel, sparrow,
Monkey, and Bob.
Maybe, even, a rich man
If so, it's better than I began.
Now, after some thought on it,
How being a sparrow, squirrel
Or monkey,
Is to me,
A whole world better
Than being a rich man
Or Bob, the God.
For the one is a borish nob
And the other, quite a snob.
But those first three,
With their quaint charm,
Are far more much like me.