Monday, November 28, 2011

Waiting is the psalm

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Nothing Hunts

Nothing hunts when
sky forbids. Quail and
coyote deluge together.
Predation suspends law.

Hawk sequesters in her
cathedral of eucalyptus.
Vole and rabbit share
underground vectory.

Rain sounds the over-
note and everything
voices as one. This
will be the day’s song.

Vulture pulls patience
from a barren bough,
senses its wait will
prove to be longest.

When sky forbids,
nothing hunts. There
remain some things
in this world eternal.

Joseph Gallo
November 20, 2011


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Everything Hunts

When sky allows,
everything hunts.
Eat or be eaten,
sings out the sun.

One season eats
the next, takes all
the brief nutrient
left from the other.

Each creature re-
positions for the kill.
Waiting is the psalm
now, sung or spoken.

We would seek
kisses taken in rain,
sight thriving grounds
known and robust.

Not all food is taken
into the mouth. Some
is left on the lips of
stars to glisten fire.

Everything hunts.
You will take your
place beside all that
would appear noble.

You will hunt when
they hunt, wait when
they wait, eat to one
merciful day be eaten.

Joseph Gallo
November 22, 2011


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