Man, 48, transmogrifies to Indian salmon pictograph on Cougar Mountain

In the dark my dog and I set off to climb the trail,
crawling beneath trees,
drinking from streams—
up the switch backs hugging
the hillsides with only
our night vision and senses
to guide us

At the pass, the wind came rushing
in to tickle our sides—
and if the sky could vomit it did,
with chunks of ice turning to shards,
so hard we had to find shelter
and cover our heads
beneath a tree

It gushed and cracked and coated
everything and then stopped,
and we carried on

without another soul in sight

that feeling of the wild,
of deep isolation,
of being removed

and connected
at the same time.

I became aware of my ears
as they shriveled,
and fell off.

And then the same,
of my arms
and hands

until all I was
was raw nerve,

sense memory:

the lizard brain,

a gland
the size
of my thumb

controlling
the tower.

About pinklightsabre

Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
This entry was posted in poetry, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

13 Responses to Man, 48, transmogrifies to Indian salmon pictograph on Cougar Mountain

  1. Tish Farrell says:

    What an icy onslaught and such a powerful reducing, Bill (I could feel it!): shape-shifted but not disempowered.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Hot damn, this was a great ride!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. rossmurray1 says:

    That was peak visceral.

    Like

  4. walt walker says:

    Those thumb sized glands can be all kinds of trouble.

    Like

  5. Do you submit this stuff anywhere? There are dozens of poetry journals wanting this.

    Like

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