1. Little Idiot Lost
“Chanticleer!” my mother shouts,
calling my brother to supper.
I wonder when
my mother will call
my name.
“Songbird!” my mother shouts,
calling my sister
to the table.
“Many Trees!” she shouts.
“Blessing Who Stands!” she shouts.
When will my mother
call me?
“Excellent Strength!
Goddess of Wine!
Lady of the Ocean Waves for Hair!” she shouts,
calling her children to eat.
“No one touch the food,” she says,
“until Little Idiot gets here.”
I hope my mother calls me soon.
The food is already starting to get cold.
“Little Idiot!” she shouts.
“Little Idiot!” she cries.
“Where’s Little Idiot?” she asks.
In one voice, they tell her,
“Little Idiot held up his heart
as a mirror to the moon.
Everybody knows you don’t do that.
Never use your heart as a mirror
for inanimate objects.
The moon fell into the mirror,
lost itself inside, and that idiot
hid the mirror in his breast pocket.
Now he goes to the marketplace,
charging a peck for a peek.”
“That’s no way to find a wife!” shouts my mother.
“Little Idiot stole a giant boat.
He kicked out all the people and animals.
He said a prayer and, with a skeleton crew, went sailing
to the end of the world. He peered over the edge,
and no one knows what he saw,
but he returned from there walking backwards
and repeating All roads be blessed. Goodbye!”
“That’s no way to become a man!” shouts my mother.
“Little Idiot!” she calls.
“Little Turd! Nobody eats
until that shit-fleck gets here,” she says.
By now the food is cold.
No one knows where Little Idiot is.
We’re all hungry.
And my mother still hasn’t said my name.
2. Little Idiot Found
Mother, what do I care
about living and dying?
I saw the hummingbird.
I have seen the hummingbird.
I will see the hummingbird again.
What do I care about rich or poor,
what to eat, what to drink, what to wear?
I drank from Hummingbird’s mouth.
I sat at Hummingbird’s feet on a mountain of skulls,
and Hummingbird opened his heart to me,
a book of wonders,
and Hummingbird fed me those pages.
I saw Hummingbird get married.
I attended the wedding.
Death presided over the ceremony.
The exchange of vows between
that bride and groom created the world.
What do I care about Time
or running out of time?
What do I care about profit and loss?
I watched Hummingbird enter the bridal chamber.
I watched Death seal the chamber doors
and a cloud descend upon it.
And then I saw Hummingbird fly out like lightning,
with Death between Hummingbird’s teeth
and the firmament around his waist
separating the upper and lower waters.
Who cares how the world ends?
Hummingbird showed me the beginning and the end.
Why would I possibly worry
about living and dying?