Walkabout

These tomes I'll pack and give away, the wordy books.
The picture books I'll keep a while longer,
For once a man, twice a child,
and once a child, an embryo who saw progression.

Migrating souls of painted mugs, of toughened feet
lifting dust heaven-up --- surround me near.
We'll not sweat the goblin stuff.

Give me spear to carry into forest night.
Instinct be my phantom ear.
No armored knights expect to find out here,
but woolly predecessors, ancestral ghosts
to and from planet walks.
In simple chants, in simple dance of stomping soles,
lifting dust heaven up.