Sparrow lands hard on ice.
Throws off its Being before the seed.
Clasps the tradition of its genetic jerk-offs.
Cat licks sweet tooth in forecast of the kill.
Death stalks sparrow from noon till dawn.
Cat grasps its calling in the heat of its pure heart.
(It knows nothing of compassion’s tutelage.)
Here, nothing is sacred.
Birth is a short haul for the sparrow
That landed hard on the ice.
In the wider world; nothing stops.
Only one atomic life at a time.
I’ll eat you, says the stalking cat.
Devour you entire.
Then spit out the seeds...
No it doesn't!
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