Witches

"And I, to whom so great a vision was given in my youth,

You see me now a pitiful old man who has done nothing,

For the nation's hoop is broken and scattered. There is no

Center any longer, and the sacred tree is dead"

-Black Elk

In others' mouths the scraping of rocks, who walk a rope

Run along the ground Into the basket

Whither the sky is fatted with ice, come as the earth grows

Richer of blood - The doe is in season

We pull our teeth out laying down in easy places we

Thicken the air with talk but cover our eyes up with our hands

They're shooting the wolves from helicopters can you believe that

Out in the wide world the wildest ones are vanishing quickly

Out in the wood a passing of hours, in the jailhouse of limb

A passing of years Into the casket

I will not crouch polluted with law,

No traitor to witch no traitor to wolf

Judas Iscariot

Now the white wool has twisted 'round the land,

The cowering altar and matricide borne.

The stones they are screaming

I could call them men but they are not

Men, faces like blood rags, yet

Dressed to the fines.

Chariots surround us

But it won't be the

Witches that are

Burning this time