Selected lines from Hibernaculum, poems by Sean Patrick Hill.
From where I stand, I could kill the wolves with sleep. There’s enough of me to light a few twigs, sometime, if necessary. The sky will open for anything, without prejudice. You could almost respect it for that, if it weren’t so foolish in its defenselessness. You can mistake a pigeon for a hawk, but the hawks will not make the same mistake.
The raven is largest of the songbirds. I mean to suggest we are the homeless of two countries at once. We kept going, following two black lines into the west. I know this true because I wept. Because my body is so god-damned heavy with grief. Because what we do not acknowledge we know is in there honing its grin. Of course we are constantly breaking ourselves, breaking some useless trail over snow in the direction of some jay in the peak of a larch crying thief, thief, theif.
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