#predation
Cold swans bleed on lake,
Heart of one red fox beating,
. . . Blood spilling on snows.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
Mute jungle spells end . . .
Death is written in the sands,
. . . Pause of Jaguar.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
Oh, the sound of Your mercy
a calf’s skull cracking like wet fruit
between the lion’s blessed jaws.
Such elegance in hunger.
Such holy punctuation in the scream.
We praise Your benevolence
in the slow bleed of the gazelle,
its legs still dancing
long after the gut’s been opened.
A waltz of grace. A lesson in letting go.
Behold Your love, you the all loving,
as it comes ashore in Tsunamis,
dragging children from their beds
into the arms of the tide.
Baptism by bone and salt.
Oh Creator, architect of fang and flood,
Who crowned the strong and taught them to drink blood.
No wiser hand could craft such law divine
Where nature loves the slaughter, by design.
Your favor is a wildfire,
Your kiss, a plague.
Your will, a butcher’s hymn
we dare not question
lest You love us harder.
To you Lord,
forever we bow and say,
Amen.
May 10, 2025
May 10, 2025 at 11:58 PM UTC
I took a dove to be my friend.
He had the most enchanting eyes
— black as jet, round and bright,
that smouldered with an inner light.
They say to not befriend a dove,
or love a thing so wild and free,
but still, I did,
and pampered him with everything
a feathered friend might need.
I fed him rye and wheat,
nuts and fruit,
and even larvae squirming in the bin,
and when the squirrels stole too much
I’d crow and shoo them off again
— declaring what was just and fair!
One day at dawn,
a hawk came hunting with the sun,
and caught him unawares
below my sill
— right there, so near,
beneath the heartless skies,
the faithless trees,
that bald-faced window
where I frittered at my ease.
I stirred too late
to see his last faint flap,
too late, my fists
came pounding on the glass,
too soon,
I watched his life drain out
— and all the while
that murderous hawk
eyed me with a baleful look,
dared me with a cruel smirk,
curved and sneering as a knife.
Again, I beat upon the glass,
and called up curses
from the lowest hells,
to which that butcher hauled its meat
a little further up the branch,
and ripped and tore my friendship
with a savage joy.
How I hated
— such a hate!
My hate rose up against
that devil
strutting on its ****
And how I loved
those soft round eyes,
that seemed to shine
though deathly still
— how they pierced me,
bored so deep inside,
they tore the sheath
and split the seam
where all my griefs and horrors
lay denied
— there, in quiet cubicles
and ordered rooms,
covered in a deathless sleep.
That night, my lover
lay with me, and longingly
turned out the lamp,
but I stayed her hand,
and sobbing like a child,
told her of my feathered friend.
She consoled me first
with pithy words
and wisdoms kept discarded
in a drawer -
and then at length she sermonised
on nature's whims,
and the balance of all things
— and best to let it go.
And still, she scolded me for being
such the fool as takes a dove
to be his friend.
But when my tears would not
be staunched,
she kissed my face,
and inch by inch,
gave me to her sweetness then,
coaxed me in
with restless sighs
and flashed her eyes
like dancing knives,
and soon began to sing
that lullaby
that haunts the hearts of men
— but all the while,
I watched her shadow
on the wall
swoop and fall
extend its claws
and rip her
limb from limb.
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 3:17 AM UTC