Hunt - Poem by Jonathan Land
Like the hunter
I follow tracks.
The long bars seem mournful
either for my fate or for their own
the short ones are delightful but
you only touch each one once.
To my sides the land has always
been dead. That is why forward and backward
trace out forever.
And after all
a hunter tracing tracks
on a steel engine at 140
kilometers per hour
would surely miss his pray.
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