WHO

Evergreens, rough edged against
sky—

no longer green, in coming night, but
black—

night sounds of the hills
gone to dark hum
of city night

& Thoth brought the city, its walls
or laws,

its linear glyphs
sounding our thoughts

& the thoughts weren’t there before.

A climb forward
& a fall back
& a climb

thing is, you can be a dumb brute
or waken, uneasily out of sleep, waken
& sense
& feel
& know

& in that uneasy sensing
be a dumb brute

but with forgetfulness
so your sudden

discovery in the stream’s mirror

startles a long moan

aching in tree branches

& your wild rolling
eyes

wonder at the sound.



© Gene Fowler