writing to know, knowing thru being, being for writing... this is me, writing about the one thing i know, which is myself... and even that is sometimes a mystery...

Saturday, July 16, 2005

urban rhinoceros (or, sitting on a patch of grass in the middle of a car dealership lot in the summer, reminded of how much you hate consumerism)

sitting on my island in the concrete jungle,
my hiss-hiss-hiss-tamines
in my swollen, beating, pulsing eye socket
flare nostril-ed
bleary, weary, dreary-eyed
i am the last sumatran rhinoceros
in the wilderness of man.
surrounded by metal traps,
steel cages and glass cases,
walls of stone,
encircled by
linked trappers,
alone in my clearing in the concrete jungle.


  • At 1:50 AM, July 17, 2005, Anonymous Britt said…

    haha go to bed! i kid, i kid. online at 2, laundry at 4.

    what are you talking about "i'm not very good at the whole writing thing" ???

    urban rhinoceros, like a true, provocative work of art, quickens the pulse. Your word choice and use of consonance-- as well as inconsonance-- are especially effective. Such words as 'mucus-throated' and 'trappers' cause abrupt changes in sound that reveal the discontent/anxiety of the speaker. I especially like the way you use various materials to describe this urban landscape. Steel, glass, stone, concrete--one can associate reason, method, function...but from the view of the rhinoceros, this environment is exactly the opposite- it's a jungle. However, this jungle is not a place of freedom and open space in which to truly life--it's a place of cages, cases, traps, walls--closing in not only on the rhinoceros, but on itself.

  • At 9:00 AM, July 17, 2005, Blogger Ogbuefi Stephi said…

    thanks, yo.
    hahah, and i know how that goes... laundry at 4? totally the way to do it!
    thanks for the encouragement and insight. you are a true friend indeed.


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