We

[dredpiratebunny]

We do not disappear
with the sound of the wind
where the leaves mumble their curses in our wake
as if they are the old men of the air.

We do not close our mouths
the sound of a million chap sticks twisting ever up
the seismic waves of our tongues
moving mountains.

We do not scab
but tear off our scars and embrace the fall
while blood thick and laden with manual typewriters
drip ink ribbons to the floor.

We do not stand still
but churn and roil and spasm with the wolves
they too will spread out, howl and breed again
packs of us will roam above the snow.

We do not coddle
the trek uphill is indeed both ways
infinite paths spider out
the dust rising behind hooves of a hundred horses.

We do not bend, fold, spindle, or mutilate
awaiting the dawn on a shelf
there is no need
when we have you.

7AUG14