I listen to the earth,
to the sound of the animal
that paws from within,
scratching at the door
for release into light.
How long it’s taken,
the miles of dream track
while the scent of morning
invited him out
for the pleasure of dirt.
I drop the skin face
and let the wolf loose,
his soft fur bristling
to roam and run free
in the winter wet forest
of sunlit desire.
photograph by Marc-Olivier Jodoin
Reading of “Drop the Skin Face” with music by Robbie Robertson and Little Wolf
Very interesting, mystical poem Don!
~ Yessssssssssss ~
Exquisite!
Punctuation Monster strikes again! (This is the price of having a newspaperman for a friend.)
How long its taken, (wrong)
How long it’s taken, (contraction for “it has”)
This Poem really caught my attention, from its title to the last word. I know that wolf, and she gets my attention too, scratching get outside and sniff and drink in her world with her eyes. And great choice of music too Don, from one of our favourite albums. Brought a delighted smile on a morning waiting for wolf.
You speak my language, Brother… may we all unharness the courage to “Run Free With The Wolves!”
Love & Blessings.
Great poem, Don! Relevant, and so primal! The music and image are perfect. Everything combined, the sound of your voice reaches to the very depths of my soul.
I like how home and enclosure are implied. They too have powers and benefits. The time comes though when the wild one must bound free. Roar!
What slings and arrows the poet must endure who has a newsman with a penchant for copy editing as his lifelong friend. But I share his fervor, and so observe that the transgression that has set his soul ablaze has been rectified, and now the wolf need only beware the nettlesome spiritual burrs while running so free through thickets of the wet forest.
Don, Good thing John Walsh put Jack’s wolf back in Jack’s skin.
Bravo on a very deft pronoun change-up mid-flight that is the absolute pivot point of this poem.