Leave a scent on the soil
Pound through the night
with the heavy footfalls of full grown deer,
the pull of wet dog,
or the pressure of the migrating sun.

Midnight pulse points
push blankets
dripping slowly to the floor,
lazy curtains
turn slowly
in the heat.

I am having trouble sleeping tonight.

The city skin is breeched,
it's weather weary boards
violated
pulled back
splintered
and left in pieces on the ground.

Someone else has been here,
left behind
indelible
black ink
on the stone cage.

A soft weak man
marks his territory
this way
with the carelessness of an afterthought,
with as much effort
as it takes to pull the trigger
of a tranquilizer.

The night moves with plentiful noise,
the wounded cries of lonely beasts
pulse
with the flow of traffic not far away.

These cages no longer have doors.
The entire wild night
is free to roam
past the protection
and the hinderance
of heavy iron bars.

The big cats no longer pace here
I do.

1998ish-2007