Molok
The title-piece from the new collection
I’ve been trying to write this piece for about fifteen years, and this is just the latest version. There will be others. I’ll never be happy with it, I’m sure, but that’s not always the point of putting a poem out…
One of my preoccupations is how to use language either in direct opposition to this force that I call Molok, or the Devourer, or in order to awaken something that is more effective in opposing it. If that makes sense to you, I’m glad.
Please support my efforts by spreading the word about the book, and - of course - by getting your own copy. And, come to the launch on the 15th, either in-person in Devon, or online. All the links are here:
With prayers for a halt to Molok's advance. And thanks for your curiosity and interest, as ever. We persist, with one another’s love.
Two likes and two comments, one of which is from me. I no longer understand these spaces, or if I do understand them, I don't have the energy to navigate them. I am going to go the way of printing poems on cards and leaving them in strategic places in the real world.
I often think about how I might apply the confrontation with the Windigo in Braiding Sweetgrass (Robin Wall Kimmerer), in which she turns its hunger both against and for it: she bravely offers it poison hidden in something tasty, and then—once it suffers so much it collapses—feeds it good, wholesome food until it shrinks down to become human again and then walks away.