A Newspaper Columnist Takes Drugs and Inhabits the Consciousness of an Animal

Culture, Media, Poetry, Religion

Somewhere over Silver Plume, a hawk
stoops toward a rodent in the underbrush;
the mountains are green, the small streams rush
with new snowmelt; it’s hard not to be mawk-
ish—nature needs and hates our idle talk
about its beauty. Here in the hotel hush,
the window facing sunset’s westward blush,
I ward the door against housekeeping’s knock
and kneel into this newly legal prayer
to these foreign numina; they are displeased
and I, untethered, terrified, become
the mouse beneath the raptor-crowded air;
unlike a god, a bird can’t be appeased;
I squeak; it wheels; I freeze: immobile; dumb.

One thought on “A Newspaper Columnist Takes Drugs and Inhabits the Consciousness of an Animal

  1. So, Maureen ate a laced tootsie roll and wrote about it.
    Watch your dose.
    Stick to Popov.
    Suits you better . . .

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