honu:
We move up a spine of earth /
That bridges the river and the canal. /
And where a dying white log, finger-like, /
Floating off the bank, claws at the slope, /
We stumble, and we laugh. /
We slow beneath the moon's eye; /
Near the shine of the river's blood face, /
The canal's veil of underbrush sweats frost, /
And this ancient watery scar retains /
The motionless tears of men with troubled /spirits. /
For like the whole earth, /
This land of mine is soaked.... Shadows together, /
We fall on the grass without a word. /
We had run this far from the town. /
We had taken the bony course, rocky and /narrow, /
He leading, I following. /
Our breath streams into October /
As the wind sucks our sweat and a leaf... /Henry Dumas