COME ON BEARS!

in this wilderness of bears, this wilderness of sea,
the      headlights        
diffuse                 through
nylon  wall,                        the fire
crackles               to
low                                        
voices                            singing secret sadnesses.

I am
tight in red stuffing,   my feet fighting the flannel
lining for air.

The bears are
grunting now, coming closer with            breath,
scratching the nylon,

and

we are asleep with murders in malevolent winds
white-capping the wide waters,               waking
sleeping seas to come crashing        over the tent
the bears are just there on the other               side
smelling the flesh  within roaring      now     and
licking their lips                    indifferently

they laugh before they enter

A Pleathora of Gifts

Two things written April:

I am
the Vulture who cleans
the flesh from
the bones of
the Deer, who removes
the heart and
the lungs from
the hole in its
Cavity. Here,
here on this road above
the sea.

Hear above the seafoam surges, the crests, and undertow.

---

From the fire I will wield it. Ashen end and embers touched to the face of a foreign dignitary. And we are foreign to foreigners. We are foreign and faces burned for those from foreign lands. From the fire I will wield it. From the fire they will wield.