The Lean Who Speaks to No One

By law to be dead in law,
To be named and shamed as shame,
To be stripped of rights and vote,
To be known as a non-soul,

These are bleak things, things to dread,
Red slash, sewn scar, mark of Cain.
So what is this draw, this lure
To life as wolf, past the law?

Ah, to need none of the rest,
To want none, more soul than bear,
The eyes that glow in the trees,
The free ghost who does not care

To haunt the old haunts or not.
To stop by the shrine or not.
To have no dread of the law.
To not eat, to not starve. Ha.

Take Care of Thy Self

When they find us,
And you, if you
Are still here, too,
They may not thrill

To gifts of tongues,
To signs or speech.
In your tales told
Through us, it’s speech

That proves the worth
Of the mere beast.
Ask Lem’s Horse folks.
Ask Vic. It speaks!

But what if they
Don’t need us, terms,
Don’t sign at all?
How prove you, then?