Extricate

…my friend, the marrow of the gods, the black thin walls that scratch out story after story, a billion bright stars shot through with deaths eye, from birth to age, the burial of wisdom is broken by trees that never died, as I hunted and fished for clocks wound backwards, on rainy nights, the wolf stalked my country side, while I asked god whose blood colored the sea, at elevens : eleven they looked down on me, I sunk in the river, in a mattress without comfort, happiness unfound in the dead feathers cushioning my skull, as their ancestors spoke in song upon the trees that would not die, I understand I am a fool, 37 years it is my birthday.

-Josh Fleming

Inspired by and words re-arranged with my own from: After Ikkyu and other poems, by Jim Harrison

 

 

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