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Scuffed Rough Paw
Poem by Robert Haukaas
we are fed slop, we snarl and snap at each other,
never enough of what we think there is enough of.
a scuffed rough paw limps down a barren assimilated valley
and weary traveler carries unrest upon his shoulders and
is a beggar of life as death becomes a compassionate companion.
the traveler asks of the paw, he can see the cracks deep as a valley within the roughness
of the paw.
it scathes him whole and turns him into a finer dust of metallic and his unrest. the pile is
swept up to the quietness of the stars.
paw prints lead mountains that are covered in a cloud-colored mask in a jagged line,
seeking snarling, snapping. we are beasts, and the mountains seek and seek, while our snouts
become overgrown with moss.
oil painting of melting desire
they get tangled in my phantasm
and I sit stuck melted in a seat of non-existence
with mourning shadows
I let out somber cries
and wore sad
my entire life
it was rigid darkness
that had to give me warmth, I wrote
of a metallicized bison running calmly
like an anxious tap
and as quiet as the death of a star
our stares become familiar
we imitate our faith collapsing
and like a tree rotting
it starts on the inside
where the roots reach through throat
leaking liquid rust onto
the tender pieces of earth
u feel the air wanting to escape
I sympathize with myself
and my worn sadness
that masks me this day
that bison kept running
with shattered legs
the roughness of the sun
there is something
about the absence of your air
how it sticks
to the fabrics of my shirt and
makes crowded spaces
in my mind feel lonely
and if words on the page
could reflect such sullenness
i would sit with evening plants and
their ear shaped leaves blowing in the wind
in the swaying grass lay a silver fox shining and
with every step sounding like clashing foil
i lay in the stillness of a hazy, plagued world
wishing this heat from the sun would soften
