she
sees the gold in mud,
the health in blood,
the rainbow in oil,
the passion in toil.
Tag: Poem
did you see
did you see them running, running,
did you see? did you see them
black with blood, did you
see anyone stop to help, did you see them
motionless in roadways, screaming on sidewalks,
did you see them, mouths open and teeth chipped to pieces,
did you see those who did this,
did you see their shiny clubs, their
bright and favored flags,
did you see the smirks they let slip,
did you see?
did you see?
Flesh Imitating Steel
Flesh has its rhythm
in constant self-repair;
the rest from labor enables greater labor,
and muscle builds stronger when strained, so
why must we pretend
to be as steel; unwavering, unfeeling,
ignoring the needs of flesh
(to eat,
to slumber –
to love)
in favor of steel-bound schedule,
approaching our ultimate tensile point,
waiting to twist, to groan and
shatter?
cast away the mimicry,
do not conform with an inhumane system –
resume the dance of exhaustion and repair,
do not live as steel.
Selling time
All that life has become
is the selling of seconds –
the bartering of hours;
the flowers do not dare to bloom
until they punch free of the time-clock;
and so hours are spent in useless rooms,
providing nothing,
no profit to mankind,
no meat in these hours,
no purpose but to pass,
and to pass unremarkably.
Forgetting the Names of Flowers
Lilacs, lilies, roses, still –
marigolds and dandelions and
small seeds, small heads
rising from the fetal position;
pale limbs poking through, hands poised
to claw the surface;
what are these things,
what purpose did they have, what
mastery did we seek over them by
lash and flick of tongue,
what did we drive them towards
when we murmured their names,
their names, lost now in winter –
are they found in these sturdy limbs?
Are there names to view, names to eat?
syllables quivering in the wind, and
names that bring in butterflies?
Tracking Time
I have found the track of time,
in the forest where it dwells,
I have seen it’s willowed prints,
claws fixed, scratching sand,
seen the spots where it was halted,
stooped for names, felt for signs,
I have followed it, relentless,
(as the predator; so the prey)
I have walked where it has feasted,
through the halls of medicated bones-
and have run where it has slipped
in the dimness of delight –
I am on the track of time,
hoping it won’t turn for me.
Words in Order – Now Available
Words in Order is the debut poetry collection from Wolf Stahl; it features 119 poems written between 2014 and 2017. Now available for online ordering through the A Wolf on the Fold shop page.
dog days
some dogs remember they are wolves,
and nurse the tender bruise of this knowledge;
some dogs remember that men and gods
reached past their teeth and
took fear from their mouths,
lashed and kicked and fed them,
chained and muzzled them and
left them dead in hundreds.
some dogs believe in mere survival,
some dogs find solace in their daily meals,
their isolation,
even the hands holding angry tooth-brushes,
reaching into their docile mouths,
daring the old fear to show itself one last time.
And so the summer
And so the summer
leaps like a lake bass
over the moon’s reflection,
over the shade of pines,
and hangs from the moment,
strong, struggling,
and merely glimpsed.
settling to a rest
we have bowed our heads beneath
the drop-ceiling skies, fingers pecking
crude metal, without knowing why
our works are useless to all, serving only
Mammon’s musters, our eyes are glazed, our
necks are craned, our
joys have lost their luster,
and all of us, sighing,
awake only for our shift,
and squirm, and scream, and dread to think
that this could go away.