I will wager all
my debts, my cats
that the ligature, that ash
that binds the roots
of all our human wishes half in earth
and half in sky is twin
to the milky tree whose stalk begins
at the vestige of my tail
and rises shiver-prickled to the skull
where in the dark, electric patterns dance:
boredom, pleasure, will, the chance
paint-splatter of a maker's mark.
Hear Scott Murphy read 'Ygdrasil Nerve'