Tag Archives: dinosaurs

2 Dinosaurs: a bedtime story

2 dinosaurs died long ago.

1 was humble, and meek with a stretchy neck he’d show off to nervous birds while eating leafy roofs. 

1 was bold, and stealth. A hunter. He’d never show his strength to anyone unless it was too late for them. 

The leafeater saw the world as a great mother. Trees of every size and shape filled endless dreams. Without thorns of bark and buzzy bugs in his eyes, the leafeater had only friends, and sun, and creeks, and a lust for leaves in his face, and naked gratitude. The leafeater knew only how to be a boy. He felt everything he lived. He didn’t believe in dying. 

The lion saw the same world as a buffet. Nothing fancy or special. Just enough to live. Everything is bought with blood. The strong of his type are the coldest. They hide in plain sight. They strike alone and finish! There are liabilities and threats. He had stinging teeth and claws like rocks. 

They both died long ago

When a fireball exploded

And sent a shockwave across the forest. 

And set fire to the skies.

The leaves bit back, giving birth to smoke and ash, determined to rest on the ground or blow free in the red, gray wind. 

The victims, like the leafeater, went hungry.  They cried, and cringed and got old fast with fists in their stomachs. 

First, it was a windfall for the lion. New meat. Then, the meals dried up. He felt nothing. The dinosaur died hunting in search of prey he’d never find. 

The lion outlived the leafeater. But they both died in the end. And Life is not a contest to the dead. 

They both only served the future. And their dreams lie in mud. All hearts are meant to be broken; their secrets food to the soil, who raised us all here alive now, children. 

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Death to Dinosaurs 

This poem was the inspiration for the Death2Dinosaurs blog. After months of neglect — I took a job as an adviser with three local cemeteries and thought the name seemed disrespectful — I’m jumping back into blog action. Enjoy! 

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Death to dinosaurs is what I see

in my dreams, and it seems 

fair to care why they die.

Large and leathery, wheezing,

stumbling, falling, and then

melting away. Vanishing.

They chased me, and I hid one of

the dogs they wanted to eat.

It felt like the right thing to do.
I don’t know how to make sense

of these places, these dinosaur

faces, fading away over 

entertainment centers. 

They’re random, they say. 

They’re the future, they say.

It’s gray to me, and still it seems

to be something I somehow knew. 

A place no less real than you.
In a land where dinosaurs die, or 

tornadoes fly, or a land where

I’m still in school, how do I know

where my home is? What a home is? 

What is true?

And if that passes as a home there, then

how do I remember to care?

 In those places, with those faces. 

Fading. Dying now.

Dinosaurs doing taxes

The whole world of value
Explodes.
A star bursting with juicy
Arms stretched reaching
Its limit in a sacrifice
Triggered by the memory
Of faith, the lingering
Notes of a friendship song,
Dying so another can see
A light and feel
hope.
Everything we draw out
Is born from a spark.
A death folding in on itself
And sprinting forward.
Look at me, extravagant love,
You flower,
And run home.
Let the dinosaurs do taxes
And cross check statements.
Then, come home.
Hands forward,
Not in a prayer’s pose,
Spread wide
In a dancer’s embrace.
Jumping like a fool,
Laughing,
Exploding.