POTD #11: Forest world is word
New named man hears the howlers
rising with the sun
A canopy of silhouettes. River water splashes.
Caiman stalks the capybara. Unblinking anaconda waits.
New named man knows his brothers,
wears their wares, models their gaits,
for ancestry lives in the hallowed wold.
The word for world is forest and the forest world is word.
New named man stalks interlopers.
He treads the leaf carpet.
He sights the devil at the truck, rushes, pounces, and impales.
Father’s brother trained his hands to whittle matapalo spears.
Relaxed in certainty he drives the tip into the devil’s skull
for desecration of the hallowed wold.
The word for world is forest and the forest world is word.
New new named man rinses like the jaguar,
his face festooned with blood.
He crouches, kneels, asks River Mother to wash his cheeks
so young, so worn with hate and scorn.
She splashes waters on his lips
consecration by this hallowed wold.
The word for world is forest and forest world is word.
New named man hears the devils’ screams,
howling like his brothers
while tonight the ancestors dance from beetle to leaf.
But who knows if his children will? The devils and their money buy
the devastation of the hallowed wold.
The word for world is forest and forest world is word.
Peter Walks for Democracy 
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