Thursday, May 01, 2008

Packs of wolves

assault, rend, and asunder!
Each lyrical beast
is named for a poet
but Punch knows
the power of names
and pummels surrealism!
Were this Russian, survival
would be different; today,
Punch fights elsewhere.
What? Where? Than can’t
be said.
Wolves have no meaning—
yet even signifiers
bite. He whittles
a flute.

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