Film Photography > Poetry

Red moon slipping into the gutter

I see a native man in the grocery store
Hump forming on his left shoulder
He shuffles his feet like they are tied together with an invisible rope.

His face is swelling and deflating like a fleshy balloon
losing its helium
Bell pepper gone bad.

the ancient spirits are dull tonight
His senses have lost their ritualistic stances.
He holds a bottle of no name antiseptic In his right hand o drink
red moon right into the gutter

Dash life away with a drop of an heavy rock upon the timepiece
A Dead moose that drowned in
A murky river.

Clocking out, erasing the stars
Stupefying the great bear
Drinking from the devil dipper

Sipping away from the pulse

A blank ambulance appears
In the parking lot

A sign of a white ghost visiting with
A future siren

The elk cries out on barren land -white glassy eyes

 No where to go
Nowhere to cry.

Two blood brothers accept the plastic bottles exit sign
They find a stretch of sod by the causeway
to escape the traffic

First nations at the last station
This time it may be the last ride
On the blind eagles back.

Francis A Willey
August 22 2013

Red moon slipping into the gutter