by Dee Allen The old Lakota prophesyHas come to passIn our lifetime.As any creatureBound to the land would,A long black snakeSlithers over turf,Then travels underground.Below, it steadlily travelsAnd along the way,It gets woundedBy anything, even byPouring torrential rainsFalling like a guillotine blade,And slowly bleedsOunces of visceraSlick, thick andDeepest of black.Nearby…
