slipping into the bed
it looks like midnight
and it sounds like it too
songs about rising from
graves and climbing thru
windows black windows
with the wind coming thru
the tv set by the river pushing
down the dam

“you can’t hear the song
in my head?”
driving in the rain night
“it’s Julie Peel, unfold”

it ain’t alirght by
the light of the day
it ain’t alright til the night

bringing the bloody silver
fish to the river
with its swollen ice
berths melting
in the fog air wind

the essay in 3 pages of
largest font words
defending leaving an animal
to waste:

I shot that moose
and let it get old
my uncles were up
to the point drinking
I didn’t have anyone
to help carry it
out that moose got old