Wolf in the Flow

Wolf in the flow

Wolf in the fold,
flows from the old.
Owl out of love,
hawk and a dove,
batterfly wings,
and one ring of all storms,
dogging it out,
digging it in,
in the skin of a man
flowing through how too soon
not every hand,
with each of its thought,
word and deed,
collected from ill
or the thought of a kind.

Wolf, in the fold
of a meat-space flesh-costu-mary
skin,
doubled-up hands,
leather belt, (jumping hoops)
many a’ things,
reatttttatched
from this sheet
of a once-living thing
made of old.