on the road
I did not kill her
but counted the claws
on her shaggy paw
and opened her jaws wide
to count the teeth
that had devoured
delusion, sweetly
and would devour
me, sweetly,
morsel by morsel
the marrow bone
on your tongue
does it taste of longing
is this sinew
long enough
to hold 108 knuckle bones
how much blood
fits into
the cup of your skull
but the buddha
doesn't care
what answer I conjure
she growls
the Nembutsu
and hunts again
Release me in the back country
and leave me to die
beneath the birch trees
where others
have left instructions
on birch paper bark
someone
will meet me
on the road
--to sj, with gratitude
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