They Say I Am Mad, But.... Poem by Eric Cockrell

i spend a lot of time
talking and listening to...
dogs and cats,
trees, abandoned buildings,
gardens plowed...
old outhouses,
worn out shoes,
candles burned down,
and wet matches!

i follow spirits in the night,
bathe naked in the moonlight.
whisper to old tire swings,
pray with tin roofs....
listen to the agonies of slugs and snails,
and rescue turtles from homicidal men.

i write names in tire tracks,
and sweep footsteps into dust.
i burn old coveralls
in sacrificial offering.
i search the endless night
for the howl of the wolves...
and mourn for the buffalo,
and all animals kept in pens.

i found van gogh's ear,
buried it beneath the willow.
they say i am mad...
but i know myself!