Soil and water
mix and run
like tears
down mountains
down hillside
passes and pool
and puddle where
mountain folk
reside and the
world hears
ravaging wind
but the howling
is nothing save
the mountain
folk crying “the
hills how
they bleed!”

The mountain
folk they throw
their boots on
in a rush as to
forget to fasten
the laces and they
gather ’round
the pools and
puddles of mud
earthen blood
they dress themselves
in it and throw
their arms out
as far as east is
from west and throw
their heads back
eyes upward
and they howl
oh they howl

and the world
below hears
ever louder
ravaging wind
but they mistake
the noise again
as the mountain
folk run crazed
dressed in untied
boots and muddy
earthen blood

and the world
below tries to
dance inbetween
pelting raindrops
under umbrellas
dashing indoors
to their sea-level
castles bowing
in spiritual trances
before newscasters
tracking the year’s
biggest storm
and they gather
in their sea-level
castles hovering
cowering fearing
earthen floods;

and in one particular
sea-level castle
a little girl Sarah
so tightly in fear
of another earthen
flood her fingernails
pierce her skin and
she bleeds and she
watches how the
blood drips like
rain onto the kitchen
floor and gathers
into a pool.


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