The Sunday Poem: Jungle Book, Part I
(Visited 5534 times)Dec 102006
I.
The Road
The jungle breathes
with its own rhythms
for its own reasons.
The road is a knife cut
parting the jungle
and no use can claim it
from its source.
Ghosts jabber among the thick-veined leaves
Panthers dream of standing over campfires
Jowls sag over flames and sparks
This road is a gullet
into some animal too vast
to comprehend.
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