Strange Dreams and Mood Board Day
Lots of dreams of death, aggression, morphing and people self- harming. Sometimes, I just don't know what goes through my brain.
Wolf Tells
High meadow mind, I am
scree-slope, dreaming. I pulse
and the hidden population of rodents
sleeps to this rhythm.
There is no note- no whiff- here,
of flesh opened. I hunt
this negative, it's why
I came, to pulse through
this new, dead stillness and take
it down. Rip it.
Town, metallic herd. Storm of sound with
those shapes of heat lazing
upright in the grey.
Their young sleep, naked
bundles of meat-scent under vanishing
moon, curved bellies wanting; unguarded
and wanting-
I hunt this
negative. Love
of my lapping where their warmth ours
out. Leave my green
jaw poised perfect in the grey-
Ken Babstock
(
Mean
House of Anansi Press Ltd.
1999)
