Miles away from all the clear-cuts, this skin feels it.
Yellow-Hair Custer Termite-Culture
still busy taking women's scalps.
Miles from "earth-movers" carving into Her body,
my own muscles separate from tired stone-like bones.
Miles from wolf, bear, coyote, fox
all caught in steel-toothed traps
waiting the long night for a bullet to the brain,
my ankle throbs. I shiver. My heart drains.
Miles from the forest floors of the Quinault, the Haida, the Yurok,
I lay my head down here in "Michi'zii'bi";
the soft-gray network of Pacific mycelium
has begun sending messages to me.
The messages speak of saturation
this DNA changing
merging with the Great Transformation.
While modernistas and Floating World-types
lull themselves into another dark-sleep
another episode of House of Cards
the real house of cards we are all in
is preparing to receive tough-love teachings all over again.
They will arrive slowly at first,
then in the form
of giant spirals
of water and high-wind.
(c) 2017 / Frank LaRue Owen (Wandering Stone Lantern) / purelandpoetry.com
For more information about the music of Michael Hewett, visit the Michael Hewett Bandcamp page.