Unrelated Thoughts

Poems that are not in The End of the Word as We Know It, by Wes Unruh

Unwaba’s Eucharist

previously published in eXpressions Journal

Am I too slow?
This world moves though I do not,
        (sit here, ponder my fleshings, my merely mortal after all,
        think through the mid-morning afterglow)
I can only sit here, panicking, about the passage of time for so long
before I have to piss
here I lie fain, fallow
shed my lizard skin go I

fear my company, fear my companion, fear more alongside
fear harmonizing, enticing, Pan tug panic tugging fain (ever so faint)
…fabricated, frail, fraught with more than is destined, that
   only so much is entitled, is bequeathed, that heritage is
   something passed, like language, like gas
   cultural belch, the spirit
   digested, expelled…Betray
   in its sweat, its passing
for others, there I see behind
for others, there I
for others, there

but for the drifts of gog and
drifts of magog go I


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