The red wolf does not rest:

His form is formed out from our shadow

And in our mental forest

He moves among the neuron flow

Of leafy thoughts and crouching low

His eyes poke through the gloom;

Green circles sharp in spiky hair

That spins out visions on the loom

Stitched fantasies of humid summer air,

Saliva threads out from his lair..

The hunger never leaves;

He prowls the gauzy inner recess

Within the arteries

And leaving paw prints of distress

Hides with his howls the only egress.

There is no satisfaction

Beyond the gnawing dental pressure

A fading dissipation

Into an empty echo clatter

Bloating back to the same measure.