Saturday, June 12, 2010

Poem After/For Johannes Göransson:

With deer there are derisions.

Every time it rains hard enough the ferns bleed.

Every time it’s hard deer jump across ravines.

With human blood warmth wilts the ferns.

With the scarlet floods from wildlife the tendrils crisp.

Out of the body the crisping blood begets legs sans saddle.

A shivering human manages a mount.

Tongue to hallucinated hornrut a deer-filled gut hears yarrow sprout.

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