November 29, 2015

martes pennanti aka fisher

martes pennanti aka fisher

an assassin, intent on waiting, while
listening, lying down above tongued feasts 
from mountain ritual Moon, wax to wane 
harvest silk to hackneyed shadow to light 
all that the seasons in the forests 
can find high to low tides 
in spawn to death wash sounds 
every ambulatory desperation 
you can feel, even those you pray 
keep away, when dark stretches 
hungry too, for your thoughts and words...

why, you are here, prey to poem 
skill, guile and talisman 
wading moods 
nutritive soul...

do you survive regards...

what stays 
when your bones 
are eaten of their flesh 
and your skin tears
shred passing 
as salt and sea 
in the rain...

what do you need
to get to where 
you might be 
or were once 
before, when 
to know, wasn't 
really passe...

run, rabbit run 
from where you 
are there hare, hair 
of white before 
the snow flies 
my sense of scent is keen 
but so are my eyes 
this November's warm suckle 
is light and color being parlor tricks 
the nose king says 
better to eat well when...


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