Thursday, April 5, 2012


i've been murdered
torn to pieces by the she -bear
here an arm, there an ear
as the bones rattle and break
flying through the trees

i heard of an old trick
just get real close and grab hold of her fur
-it doesn't work

i tried running but my legs became silly
so i smiled friendly, showing no fear,
but my weakness became her jerky

then i bluffed
pickett's charge across the grove
while the cannon shot my horse
from under me

so now i lie scattered
as the scavengers feast
and the she-bear sleeps full bellied

but this death is not the end
not even unbearable
for i am one of them now
in them, among them
and through them
i shall live

i shall see and taste life as they have
i shall also drink the blood as
flea on that she-bear,
too small to be torn

through the trees as wind
i shall roam free and haunt
while the flowers i once inhaled
will become my limbs

and in the winter,
i shall visit her in her silent den
dancing to her fat snore.
while blowing cold up her nostrils

i will swim with the salmon
sleep under mushrooms
become the slightest leaf
in the wrens nest
is this not life?

but if another man wander through,
though quite capable, i'll
warn him not
but watch, the twisted knot
in a silent tree

and there. in the shadow of his terror,
in the womb of her hunger,
i'll die in peace
while he may become
her April rage