“Hunger for Something” by Chase Twichell

Sometimes I long to be in the woodpile,
cut-apart trees soon to be smoke,
or even the smoke itself,
xxxxx
sinewy ghost of ash and air, going
wherever I want to, at least for a while.
xxxxx
Neither inside nor out,
neither lost nor home, no longer
a shape or a name, I’d pass through
xxxxx
all the broken windows of the world.
It’s not a wish for consciousness to end.
xxxxx
It’s not the appetite an army has
for its own emptying heart,
but a hunger to stand now and then
xxxxx
alone on the death-grounds,
where the dogs of the self are feeding.

xxxxx

“Hunger for Something” by Chase Twichell from The Snow Watcher published by Ontario Review Press. © 1998 by Chase Twichell.

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One Response to “Hunger for Something” by Chase Twichell

  1. Jerome Bloom says:

    WHATWOULD

    CELAN SAY

    WHATWOULD
    CHARNEL GROUNDS
    CROWS SAY

    THE EMBERS
    THE
    BONES

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