In a Pigsty

I played the harp
In a pigsty
Thinking if I played for long enough they might
Turn away
From their feed
So that I could steal a handful of their beans
Sleeping on
A pile of hayseed
I will sink until I’m underneath the floor;
And like Job
Said to his Lord:
«You will look for me but I will be no more.»
I have knocked
With friendly face
On the door that keeps the world in its place;
When no one came
I realized
That I was knocking on the front door of my house
So this is my
Quiet ascension;
I’m not one for tearing schisms in the sky:
A little meat
A little bread
And my parents holding candles by my bed