The diagnosed stranger,
Shelter, warm straw in a manger
Come closer, like a witch in October
The jaguar, in his thick jungle grass
Growing higher and higher
His round eye, the reflecter
Surveying his hunter
Two anonymous feeders,
Chart topping toppers, both men
Clawing at the dirt, born miners
Under the moon, the revolver
Rounder and smaller
The earth's young daughter
With its white wolf caller
The celestial guider
For the sailor, the rower
The great dinosaur
All bleeders, cryers, or Russian spyers
Gray-bearded whalers with fat, hungry wives
Black-hearted liars, rich slave traders
All cold and straight, little child Hitlers
Hole-filling fillers, all skilled livers
Giving life to life-givers
From us to our otherworldly divider
A tribute to the mother and father
Our dear brother, the infinite dyer
Stark naked protector of the bended-knee prayer
As worldwide lovers live and die and live and die

There is nothing quite like the feeling that sweeps over you just before you plow yourself down and dissolve into the soil. There is nothing quite like the smell of victory.

King and Queen particles floating every which way
Vaporized by the rising sun while sitting on their thrones
Blood once thick as a sweet, northern syrup
Now as thin and subtle as an ant's breath
The Green Earth tastes as stale as it smells
It leaves us hunched and wobbling, day old babies
Forever in waiting, praying to grow as sturdy as a cross
Cold, metal, clawing madly at the gray air
Crying out to feel the arms of God, long elephant-trunk-arms
Arms that wrap twice around the Earth and give it a shake
Tugging senselessly until its fruit has dropped loose from the vine
Denied Life's apple, we die alongside our dogs
Sprawling like spiders in the dirt, hardened into human stone
Feeling the sick feel of vulture feathers, black as twelve o'clock
Big, oily birds with perfectly pointed beaks, picking and puncturing
Asking in squawks, "When, oh when, will we find the yellow bone, oh?"