Utuqaq, the apocalypse,
won’t burn us alive by fire, no.
Mayans never spoke of muruaneq
even in predictions.
Pirtuk, the apocalypse:
left behind in snowy bark,
footprints of squirrels
alarming at circling eagles.
Matsaaruti, the apocalypse —
the walking dead are peonies
furrowed on tombs. They’re not the end
though singing bowls sing
our breaths, icy and visible.
Siguliaksraq, the apocalypse.
Earth is grey and white;
pukak - the coming snow.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
Utuqaq, the apocalypse,
won’t burn us alive by fire, no.
Mayans never spoke of muruaneq
even in predictions.
Pirtuk, the apocalypse:
left behind in snowy bark,
footprints of squirrels
alarming at circling eagles.
Matsaaruti, the apocalypse —
the walking dead are peonies
furrowed on tombs. They’re not the end
though singing bowls sing
our breaths, icy and visible.
Siguliaksraq, the apocalypse.
Earth is grey and white;
pukak - the coming snow.
