Witches from Swidden by Blackbird Raum

"and I to whom a great vision was given in my youth -- you see me now a pitiful old man, who has done nothing. For the nation's hoop is broken and scattered. There is no center any longer and the sacred tree is dead" -Black Elk

in others' mouths, a scraping of rocks
who walk a rope, run along the ground, into the basket
whither the sky is fatted of ice
come as the earth grows richer of blood
the doe is in season
we pull our teeth out, laying down in easy places
we thicken the air with talk, but cover our eyes up with our hands
they're shooting the wolves from helicopters, can you believe that
out in the wide world, the wildest ones are vanishing quickly
out in the wood, a passing of hours
in the jailhouse of limb, a passing of years, into the casket
I will not crouch, polluted with law
no traitor to witch, not traitor to wolf, judas escariot
now the white wool is twisted round the land
the cowering altar and matricide borne, the stones they are screaming
I could call them men but they are not men, faces like blood rags
yet dressed to the fines, chariots surround us
but it won't be the witches that are burning this time

• Punk
• Folk
• Folk-punk
• blackbird raum
• Santa Cruz