UNDER THE WOLF MOON
We live in the
bare branches now,
our skin splitting
painfully under
the brilliant circle
of a Wolf Moon.
We have been
busy filling the
universe with
our human voices,
mouths open,
sensuously, in the
O of rhetoric;
no time to press
our lips against
the sun and stars.
Somewhere out
in the dark, a fox
slouches low -
and turkeys, as
black as crows,
bark like dogs
and run wild
over the ice.
We try to remember
the names of things,
trees, sky, woods -
fractal thoughts,
meaningless now.
Transmutation
metamorphosis
shifting
I breathe you in.
The moonlight
shows your
low set ears,
your curved nails;
and now, I recognize
you only by the bristles
under your tongue.
metamorphosis
shifting
I breathe you in.
The moonlight
shows your
low set ears,
your curved nails;
and now, I recognize
you only by the bristles
under your tongue.
