My first impression was that your hands were much larger
than your ideas. I thought,
this giant's world much too small for me.
How could anyone find meaning in the shape
of a Holstein cow, or philosophy in the castration of pigs?
Surely a mind such as mine was meant to soar, unscathed
by mangled hogs, musty barn dust and mastitis.
Yes, my mind was meant to soar, to search for shape
in some shapeless something somewhere out there in
that exotic marvelous
universe. One day soon, I would find it, analyze,
anatomize
and anthologize it, into a neat cosmic cube philosophy
that everyone could understand.
Thirty years later, just yesterday, while watching
your straining
nephews, each one the size of a pro-linebacker
shoulder you
through an early may morning, I recognized my error.
In that instant, I found meaning in the shape of your casket,
and understood with perfect clarity the philosophy of pig castration.
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