The snow falls, the wind calls.
The winter is here, the Wolfen One sheds her fears.
There will be no more tears.
As she emerges from her slumber, the world with enchanment and  plunder.

When I die burry me in a poem
I am six foot six so make
My poem seven foot long

Make it from rich azure tales of Arabian nights
Make it's walls strong to protect
My remains from a Poe's delight

Rest my head on a pillow of silken vowels
Line the walls with chiffon
And wolfen howls

Place inside the words of my poems
Lest I be presumptuous
Under my tongue a copper coin

Lest they forget , leave the calendar of my last living date
So I can ponder how fragile life is
Death a certain fate

Finally , bury me six syllables deep
I pray , that my poems
For them to keep

Look,
you can surely tell
that I feel the indignity of the situation
by the way I cannot meet your eye.
Yes, I look ridiculous,
but nature has called
and I must answer.
**** to a tree,
heels on the ground,
vulnerable -
it's not the image
my wolfen ancestors
would wish you to observe.

No, I'm no great fan
of the substance I produce,
but you needn't wrinkle your nose -
it was you who led me here, after all,
and I'm sure yours is no sweeter.

I'll make you a deal:
you avert your eyes
while I take care of this
and I'll avert mine
and pretend not to notice
when you pick it up carefully in a bag
and carry it around.

Let me walk upon the mountains
Swim the raging streams
Let me run once again
With the tumble weeds of dreams

Let me embrace the heavens
Such a starry feast
Let me embrace my creator
I'm overpowered and I weep

Let me stand inside the sunset
Embrace it in all it's warmth
Let me hug my sister moon
As I listen to wolfen cries that haunt

Let me ride the crest of waves
From the ocean blue
Just let me be on my way
My comet returning now overdue

If you will kindly forget about me
I will do the same for you

In the wild Canadian north
the winter wolf howls in the night.
ghostlike from behind the skeleton trees
in the frozen winter Forrest
her belly lies close to the earth
hearing the drumbeat
of those of her pack long past.
hearing her mothers heartbeat
as when she lay in her womb.
The frozen air catches
the edges of her fur
still, she lies silent.
and unnoticed
Her white coat as pure as the snow
providing her survival stealth
and camouflage
patiently awaiting her prey
for the cubs in her belly will
be fed this night
it is the way of the wilds
something must die
in order for her to live
she must die protecting her young
for they are the tomorrows
of her lineages.
She is but the vessel
that will take them there.
Blue eyes as cold as ice
awaiting her prey.
Awaiting her future
Awaiting her destiny

Returning To the Pack

*Winter nights are when the grey wolf cries,
across the skeleton forest bare of leaves.
Grey and invisible within the resting trees,
ghostly shadows in the falling snow.
Silent and patient wolfen ice blue eyes wait.

The night is calling for me to rekindl with the pack.
For as a woman I am also partly wolf.
Now my hair turns grey like their coats.
My eyes are as wise as nature.
My heart yearns to run with them once more.

I lie as they lie with my belly on the earth
in reverence of its timeless wisdom.
Feeling  its pulsating heartbeat older than time.
The silver shine of my wolfs eyes empower me,
overflowing my soul, with ancient knowledge.

Though human I lie down in the  company of the wolf,
suckling the milk of my mother,gaining her strength
Standing in the rains of her wisdom
Her daughter, Her immortality, Her wolf.

I was just a cowboy
whose story goes untold
I rode the range in
summer's heat and
the winters long and cold

My legs were bent and so bowed
From years
on horses that I rode
And memories that I made
were my treasure trove

I saw every sunrise from across a coffee cup
And every sunset wrapped up in a blanket as I sat and supped

I am no more lonely
than a wolfen howl
While underneath the stars I find myself blessedly so wowed

And everyday is like the last in my paradise
I have no chords that bind my life
to your civil strife

Give me open range
and ways that are ever fittingly so free
And kindly please
will you let me be

I met a drifter once with soulless eyes
Who told a tale of red demented skies
A madness rides when darkness rules the earth
And howling wolfen echoes now are heard

A whitened moon is shining brightly there
Upon the paths of men, of fools that dare
To cross, to enter forests bound to rule
Of Baron ****** cruel and nightly cool

The men still travel headless down the road
To Baron's castle dark, their new abode
A silence fills the ears as gurgling dies
A silent static warning - travel wise

I ventured forth the paths of blackened woods
And heard I there the noises barely good
In terror, fear and horrid dreams I stepped
To crawling blackness there and gates *****

The fear was there, astounding gravely fold
The swaying bodies, clouds of grey so bold
In windy gates, in hollow ground and more
Will walk the hanged, the blooded ones in yore

I turn and run as far as legs would take
I run until I reach a crystal lake
And there nearby a village stood aghast
I stumbled forward, homely inn atlast

To catch a breath, to feel relief at heart
Relief that came gave way to thoughts so stark
'Twas then I heard a horse and neighs and screams
Commotion there, a song and creaks and dreams

There stood a rider, crimson ****** death
Ungody terror stealing every breath
The Crimson Baron, headless, stood there proud
And looming over us, the stormy cloud

A rider red atop a horse and dead
The bloodied sword that bit and bit the heads
And dyed the plates, a colour crimson gore
To chop, to chop us all and more and more

A hand that fell atop the singing moon
A hand that brought me low to pits of gloom
Of people hardy stole the god and mocked
The changing seasons, life, the earthly walk

The wight alive in slaughter lost the sight
I climbed a tree in fright in hasty flight
To watch the limbs of bodies broken fly
The men and women, children hanged to die

As slowly moves the timely guiding hand
And ripple skies above, a plane so grand
A ******, slaughter waning down below
A promise, fateful image, bane and woe

And then I turn my eyes to bright of light
To ember stars, to moon aglow in night
To ride atop the mountains, hold a vault
In hands, above the heavens, hold a court

Awake I, ground so damp with dew and tears
A steady breath for painful lonely years
To hear a neigh, a horse to dream, to haunt
A rider ****** waltzing, hear his taunt

gristle's input--

a tray of glass tupperware.

forgotten leftovers,

on a park table.

animal jello.

a bipedal strikeforce

of wolfen albinism--

on a runner's high.

slathering that gristle

over its body.

during a flashflood of

incremental moons.

picking out whiskers

from the **** end of

witchy chins.

Poetry should flow
like a babbling brook
with soothing repetitions
easy on the look

Poetry should thunder
like Niagra falls
Be as serene
as the far off wolfen howls

Poetry should be pure
as a maiden's heart
Full of meade and mischief
from the very start

Poetry should come from the pitch heart of man
Anything less I just can't understand

Someday I hope to be the eclectic
While I sing the body electric

I see, you
Clearly
You're out of this world
It's all so obvious to me
Please
Take me with you
I want out
My therapist says I need to kiss you
I think
I wasn't really listening

What's my lifes worth?
What's a life
Worth
Without a little joy
A little company?

Show me
Your teeth
Sweetheart
Haunt me with those pretty eyes
Of yours
Wolfen stare
You run with the pack
Run wild
Make me miss you

Be the paint to my canvas
You draw me, in
With a stroke of luck
We'll have a deep connection
I need a good ****

You bite
You're on my mind
Constantly
I guess it's bad luck
You're name scratches on the inside of my throat
Stuck on my tounge
Claws and fangs
Make for hard facts to swallow

Sweet pains always turn to poerty
In time
So tell me now
Is this real?
Are you, real?
Are you for real?
With me
About me
About us, this, whatever this is?

Your laugh
Is the only hope
In my stroy