Spoonful: A Gathering of Stone Soup Poets

An extension of Cambridge's Stone Soup Poetry Venue.

Poem by James Van Looy

Photo by Bill Perrault

Cave Crazy

Perhaps, today’s crazy
was once exactly what was needed
to conjure the herd over the edge
or run reindeer into the ground
or just to intuit the next colossal storm
before it caught you ice-footed in the open.

Perhaps, today’s attention deficit disorder
was once exactly the leafy brained
attention to everything that allowed
one to pierce the jumble jungle forest
and keep a surplus in the larder.

Perhaps, today’s dyslexia
was once the ability to read
the sign of the spore backwards
as well as forwards, upside down
and write side up.

Perhaps, the deep hole of our minds
was once the cathedral caverns of earth
where space twirled and swirled round and round
like grand galaxies and gaseous nebulae
gravity found more in our dark matter
than the speed of light which might
penetrate the depths but never recover
obscured needs and births and rebirths
which glimmer in torch flame
in those deep, deep sanctuaries.