when in searching
The bloodstream bites the bitterleaf-
and does dancing with saliva
caking dark the fur beneath their chins
leave unsteady footprints
which are sucked into the mire-
things are Seen, eyes in darkness
and voices in the quiet places-
the dreams we hear are the old songs
and lessons, legends, lies
mingling with bile and spittle
on our enlightened mouths
