white wolves                                   this is not a forest
                                                                                          this is not a forest

                                    where the trees should go, they have planted white teeth
                                    out the mouths of seven white wolves, whose hair
                                    is thinning on their sad bald heads.

                                    a snow falls, like soap flakes

                                    in the drift I find two tiny figurines:            implication of a man,
                                               a thin dowel noses out from his waist
                                                                                                   implication of a woman,
                                               small hole drilled into her waist

                                    they are not my parents or anyone else I have met

                                    far off there is the sound of a wolf eating its own paw:
                                              bone breakage like crushed gravel
                                              coarse hair chewing itself
                                                   and the whimper [mourning the paw]

                                    if I had to be a child all over again, I would grow tails:
                                    thick, beautiful, silvery haired tails

                                    when I am a child, in this dream,

                                                deconstruction the male figure, the female figure
                                                renaming them
                                                misinterpreting ins and outs

                                    like a rock bomb in my belly there is a blast in a Nevada desert
                                    [in the dream it is coded as intercourse] : this dream is wet.