if I quote great “minds”
or utter a singular word
about my own
tell me to hide under a rock  
shun me with silence  
ignore my proclamations
throw stones at me    
I will eat my insects
skitter through the cacti forests  
without regard for trudging truth  
or the liquid lies of the high born  
I will dodge the thorns  
let my blood boil in the searing sun  
mate without wily wooing
I will be
other than thee,    
a grit dirt dweller  
a hisser, blissfully
unaware, I hope