Rick London



you are flying &
your ears come off
you wash the hoofs

of your lamb
the earth treats you badly
but you like looking at

its coarse features
you scatter your children
& goats you are

going away you lead
your family into a lie
now the earth

confounds you your babies
sing to the mountain
snow covers you your blood

is colorless
there is no book for this
level of ritual

the mountain takes all
memory from your children &
tells you to lie down



even as the foot disengages.
the dissolving line of
muscle. you were here as
this residue. to continue.
so you may continue.
feeding the ghost.
even as the foot disengages.
adding to the elements. so
you may continue. you will not
emerge from this appetite.
tho the foot disengages.
where the line dissolves.
feeding the ghost. what
begins. without residue.
calling itself you



a man appears holding a painting
of an owl. you embrace your loved
ones and expel them from the walled
city. the weather follows your
dreams. the weather flows from
your dreams. a cave opens in the
hillside. a man appears holding a
parched branch. black dirt builds
around your feet. a tent of light
opens in the rain. a man appears
holding a painting of a shattered
tree. the walls of the city are
washed clean. a painting of you
is found by the sea, replaced by
a painting of a stone. in memory
you are also replaced by this