written By
Where night rises
to suck sky
a shriek of sun
weeping
into silver powder.
Tobacco on the tongue
stings bitter
with the drip
of a sinking
hour.
In blind instinct
a wolf pauses,
swept by tidal memory,
sea across land,
sharpening his ragged sight.
The valley ridge
waits for deep bell:
moon
slips lume skin
over forest
and river.
