some questions from the edge of the trail

at the edge of the trail i stop and stare

what is it that pulls me?

a metaphysical arrangement -
the trees obeying some ancient law

what is the text?
why is it so compelling?

as though the shaman were striking me with tensile braids of sweetgrass
my thoughts converge into rows

or are my thoughts those things spraying out between the trees into darkness?

one last step this (winter)time

a ruthless winter to defeat

from A Secret Gratitude by James Wright

We are men.

We are capable of anything.

We could have killed every one of those deer.

The very moon of lovers tore herself with the agony of a wounded tigress

Out of our side.

We can kill anything.

We can kill our own bodies.

Those deer on the hillside have no idea what in hell

We are except murderers.

They know that much, and don’t think

They don’t.

Man’s heart is the rotten yolk of a blacksnake egg

Corroding, as it is just born, in a pile of dead

Horse dung.

I have no use for the human creature.

He subtly extracts pain awake in his own kind.

I am born one, out of an accidental hump of chemistry.

I have no use.

barely nouns and verbs in winter

nouns and verbs in winter