The land is a giant whale
that swallows the sinker,
with hook, line and bait
aborting dreams of a good catch
fishers turn home at dusk
blue Peter on empty ships
all Peters with petered out desires.
The land is a saber-toothed tiger
that cries deep in the glade
While infants shudder home
the grizzled ones snatch their gut
from bayonets of tribulation
halting venturous walk at dusk
The land is a giant hawk
that courts unceasing disaster
as it hovers and hoots in space
The land lies patiently ahead
awaiting in ambush
those who point away from a direction
where nothing happens toward the shore of possibilities.
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