Christian Molenaar

woods-at-the-end

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If I haven’t heard a word in ten years, assume you’re dead
Or guest of the Feds
Or cultivated a better class of friends
Not mad, tip the hat, fingers don’t touch the brim
Lid don’t touch my naps
Andy Capp, go ’head, pencil him in
Last one standin’, what he scream in the wind
At the end, at-at the end

Thought:

“A mythical animal, the vicuña fares well in the volcanic regions of northern Peru. Light thunders down on it, like Milton at his daughters. Hear that? – they are counting under their breath. When you take up your axe, listen. Hoofbeats. Wind.”

Anne Carson | “Short Talk on Vicuñas”