This appears in a pre-2010 issue
of
Down in the Dirt
magazine.
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in the 2009 book
Crawling
Through the Dirt
grampus
Devin Wayne Davis
the church
urges
us
to appreciate
the elders
—through
these stories of abraham,
and adam before him ...
to wait,
for what
felt every bit
like 900 years ...
until
pater familias is dead;
and timing
has a lot to do with it.
fiendish ...
seeing anyone hold on
for so long. now,
the eyes of that matriarch,
who should’ve followed his, will
also close.
as two brothers—
perhaps sisters
—run things.
off into the wasteland,
an outclassed rival goes ...
bloody,
unknown ...
this sickness might
as well depart. then
survive,
ripen ...
isn’t likely
that you’ll find
life—but death; after all,
fists do not knock
on a rock cottage door
—riveted
in the wood;
nor come in
the womb of a cave,
to which
you may have
returned
—dripping
with leprosy;
or radiating
another spell ...
so you
perfect
that walk, the stoop, well
-over the course of your years ...
the voice,
echoing in a head
& bat’s ears ...
there’s something about
blindly finding the old path
—unenlightened, bearing
both humility&pride ...
when self-sufficiency’s
been a venerable mentor.
the dogs,
they sniff out
this strange plot;
their masters
witness magic ...
small cooking pot,
sundry plants
many animals hung ...
rituals get twisted;
drawn back, &
turned black
as fire ...
out of the pit,
and hearth, leaps
to bring it back home ...
hunters, that gang-
upon an ogre,
a golem, or medusa,
warn offspring they’re not
far from legendary
monsters.
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