The nez perce shall ride on more

i shall ride into battle again
i shall slay those less than horse-belly
i shall pike their skulls
i shall count coup
“arrowheads >= count(ribs) – 1”
i shall burn the bark from their trees
i shall strip them o their spears
i shall hone their headbones with salty stones
i shall leave a scorch 
“the nez perce shall ride no more”
they shall walk in inadequate moccasins 
they salmon shall cease to run
“they indians shall fish no more”
they, rounded once belly-fat
the otters and indians sleekly-coated
they shall gaunten like a feral cat”
one casts no magic into the ground
one provisions no future
one tap breasts o their milk, and
one sees trees, but
“¿ who is this of no appleseeds ?”
carrying at the trot their tributaries:
turn taps at their sides, and
trip lightly, and
i tap tears from wild things
“did you not know?”
tip buckets into coal cars
drip honey on floorboards 
“there are souls surfacing”
trident the tongueless under the tar
shall see:
one taps souls as one taps trees”

say something nice ... or not

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