by Pavel Chichikov
Sweep the dead leaves all aside
Devils fall down, we bury them
Entropy, gluttony, parsimony and pride
They live in trees, nest in boles
They chatter at walkers on the earth
And bury their nut-like souls
But when the sun rises, they fall down –
Stunned by light they wither
Weightless, fleshless and unfound
The fox in the dusk flashes and sniffs
Nuzzles the humid spot
But finds them not
The mold curls round and penetrates
With seeking strands of wool
Absorbs the last meal they ate
Releases into the atmosphere
The least rare gases –
Manipulation, rage, and fear
But the residue and the allure
Are transformed to a black liqueur
That makes the drunkards drunker still
And takes away their will
And who would know how much to drink
Of this balsamic metaphysic
To grow as drunk as any devil
And still walk level?
Visit Pavel's website at Grey Owl Press.
Note: Pavel will read selections of his poetry at Franciscan University (Steubenville, OH) on January 25, 2002. For more information contact Professor David Craig of the Department of English.
