Wednesday, May 28, 2008



A decade ago…
When I began my journey from the wolf’s skull,
I didn’t know Id end up—
Following its howl.
Now Ive seen myself in the moon
Walked the lines on my palm
Until they met at a crossroads
Where the moonman dances his naked dance
And howls the wolf’s howl.

A decade hence…
Im leaving the crossroads
Where the wolf was shot dead by the silver bullet.
The paths have bled and drowned in red—
The moon’s shadow in my eyes.
My palms were too small to hold it.
Ive skinned the dead wolf
And from my severed skull begins his journey—
The stranger wearing the moon.

2 comments:

pritha said...

the best...
aching, the pain written over your face

MZ said...

Uncertainty of whats beyond the line...is what draws us ahead

=)
This is beautiful..