{"id":23,"date":"2012-03-10T16:50:38","date_gmt":"2012-03-10T16:50:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lovingthespider.net\/?page_id=23"},"modified":"2012-04-21T21:32:14","modified_gmt":"2012-04-21T21:32:14","slug":"mithoskumin-break-up-season","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/lovingthespider.net\/?page_id=23","title":{"rendered":"Mithoskumin – Break Up Season"},"content":{"rendered":"

\n

\nthe Great Snake
\nmust have
\nmade a slow glide
\ndown the river
\nlast night
\n’cause this morning
\nthe ice is gone
\nriver cleft wide
\nfor gawking commuters
\nas if
\npeople never before
\nsaw the river flow <\/p>\n

just like that
\nthe mean ass beast
\npasses us by
\nin our sleep
\ndelivering its
\ntender minstrations
\nto the waters <\/p>\n

it’s a humming
\nthing of copper and all intent
\nstirring the water
\nliquid breath
\nheld in
\nagainst itself
\nuntil scales breach the
\nhorizontal wall
\nthen the bound and gagged
\ncurrents are sprung from
\ndoing
\nshort time <\/p>\n

from Snake’s horns
\nfly blue
\nelectric shocks
\nblowing out life
\nstored in air pockets
\nmuddy nests
\nshallow cells
\nlistless and obedient
\nthe tiny beings float
\nunder sunlight’s drug
\nbecome maybe a meal
\nmaybe a thing that flies
\nin the serpent’s wake
\nspirits yawn
\nstretch out chilly kink<\/p><\/div>\n

<\/div>
\n

<\/p>\n

\n

and cricks
\nblink murkey eyes at
\nthe coming dawn
\nwhen they don’t find
\nofferings of tobacco
\nor cloth or lard or berries
\nthey’ll satisfy themselves
\non what
\nthey can pinch<\/p>\n

while we sleep
\nwinter comfort sleep
\ndense
\nmud-green eyes
\nspy the weakness of our
\nbrittle structures
\nSnake knows better
\nthan a city engineer
\nthe skin the bones the blood
\nunder our foundations<\/p>\n

and when we awake
\nto spring
\nwe shake off
\nthe dreams we
\nneed to remember
\nfollow
\nother rules
\nwhile natural law
\ngoes on
\nwe interpret
\nour waking lives<\/p>\n

\n

\n\"prophecyindexunderwaterindex.html\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n

<\/div><\/p>\n

\"\"
\n<\/p>\n

AP: “He was always picking up strays, boys in men’s bodies with broken wings or spirits, or about to go into jail the next day, or just too drunk, and tend to them with a motherly gentleness that belied his original intent”
\n<\/h4>\n

<\/div>

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