escher poetry — [ζ] :: 2

contact broken by my autumn light
i seek in strange old hills
the barking fur i’d once known

i found some familiar matted coats
then black now white streaked with purple
parties and wakes
beer for a century

yet the place where i thought i’d find oldies
was covered in the fresh young and new
a nest of cleansing wasps
decimating damned midges

trundling through my old tall land
where all are fish and all are drunk
i feel like an eel in memory soup