Cluck and Cackle (and Thanks to Albert Hoffman)

The night the chickens spoke

I was quite out of my mind

But not yet in another—

Stuck in a strange interstice

Of quiet and barnyard fowl.

I didn’t want to be inside

Our tiny rented trailer

With its tawdry Playboy pinups,

Its stinking, overflowing

Stubs of good intentions.

You hissed at me to come back in,

Your voice a frozen snake

In the thin October darkness.

I don’t recall a single thing

That those fat hens said,

But they were so beautiful

That I wanted to stroke

Their thick, complex feathers

And stare deeply in their eyes

‘til I discovered their secrets.

Oh, laugh if you will—and you will—

But everything has secrets,

A knowledge in the cells,

Some dangerous wisdom

That can change your forever,

Like full moon light on open beaks.