I dream of
Ten thousand knives
Sharp and poignant
Piercing the veil
Of our bodies
And the whole
Fabric of our
Being

You can hear the
Dripping, dropping
With your ear to the ground
The vibrations emit and emanate
For miles and miles and miles
The deaf can feel it
Even before we know
It is there

Bloodletting was common
Among the tribes of my homeland
Native Americans were in tune
With nature, the whole of it
Down to the
Thick crimson liquid
That flows through
Us all
An endless river
Of red life
Which oxygenates our bodies
Allows us to tap into
Our gifts
Our purposes
Our evils
Our meaning