Forgotten Dreams

Two

orbs entomb

my parents ashes.

Barked 

at by a squirrel,

eyeballed 

by an owl.

A raven,

despite its dead

metaphors,

follows me

like a satellite.

It seems it's always something.

Jelm Mountain

Granite outcrops

shift into 

unrelenting thunder 

and Dagon dredges 

elk shed from the stone.

Tilt your head into

a landslide

and pray

from upside down. 

Dangle your

wolfhand 

from the darkness

of the river

and commit a crime

of bibliomancy—

         The story always pans out the same.