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:
i, 
turn taps at their sides, and
i, 
trip lightly, and
i,
i tap tears from wild things
“did you not know?”
that,
i,
tip buckets into coal cars
that,
i,
drip honey on floorboards 
that,
“there are souls surfacing”
go,
you,
trident the tongueless under the tar
one,
shall see:
one taps souls as one taps trees”

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