fall. blood. snow.

though faint, or even subtle beyond recognition, fall seems to have finally descended on northern california. i think. at the middle school, i overhear talk today that the president may postpone the turning of the clocks. is nothing sacred to this simple man in the big white house? i had selected a piece of a Jim Harrison poem to post, holding tightly the dear images of fall, but then i read this and the visual simply wouldn't leave.

"the doe shot in the back and just below the shoulder
has her heart and lungs blown out. in the last crazed
seconds she leaves a circle of blood on the snow.
an hour later we eat her still-warm liver for lunch,
fried in butter with onions. in the evening we roast
her loins, and drink two gallons of wine, reeling
drunken and yelling on the snow. Jon Jackson will
eat venison for a month, he has no job, food or
money, and his pump and well are frozen."

~Jim Harrison, from the poem titled: "A Year's Changes"

Posted by jeff pitcher at October 19, 2005 04:40 PM

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