Wolf-Talk
The noise of the world
the blahblahblah of endless babblings that pretend at
wisdom
The noise of cowards’ and hoodwinkeds’ maniacal and manic
Screamings about performances and images
Where is the solitude,
the silence
Preserve a vast vast wildlands
that silences all the hubris of the compromisers,
the murders by the collaborators,
the embrace of pretense and ignorance and idolatry
of the practical ones
the Prison that Environmentalists have locked themselves inside of
censors the writing of the damned
Writing is not the wording of flowers over torture, snares, and caskets
Writing is the bones of the Real, the language of the wild,
which environmental speech does not cease excluding from
its inclusiveness
Against all semblances of the ruling ones,
the Earth will prevail beyond us, after us
The Wild, the Real, is eternal
Sidling up to the vapid though shiny offerings
of the twisted and monstrous,
the acquiescent cannibalize themselves and our world,
never knowing what they do.
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