If I've taste, it's not alone
For the earth and stones,
Rocks, coal, iron, air
That's my daily fare.

Turn my hungers, hungers browse
On the field of sound,
Suck up bindweed's gay venom
Along the ground.

Eat the pebbles that one breaks,
Churches' old stones;
Gravel of ancient deluge taste,
And loaves scattered in grey brakes.


Howling underneath the leaves
The wolf spits out the lovely plumes
Of his feast of fowls:
Like him I am consumed.



  1. the Bull by the horns! Oh my, oh my! If you make prints... save one for me? I love this series!

  2. Thank you, Jason! I will be sure to let you know when I print them up.