By daylight so much is easily explained:

verses in the Bible, elegant execution by injection,

the wonder of  insecticides,

perennial percentages of the poor,

why war is often useful,

the omnipotence of oil,

the necessity of beating children

In sleep even the old call for their mothers,

drop names no longer spoken over lunch,

bellow in horror after shootings no one

wants to talk about anymore,

plead for places to hide


I try to discover the voice of the predator I’ve become:

if wolf, owl, hyena, hog, bully or bore,

what sounds I make when lost in the twisted roots

of primordial fairy tales


I have no sure method to predict the plot

my ogre will create,

no chance to chain the gnarly gnome,

no conceit to modulate the volume or pitch

of the witch who wakes me


Or the neuron pathways that lead

to the dead ends of the soul