cryptid - Tucson Cutsogeorge

melding of flesh  

(no, not quite flesh,) 

something other, removed- 

truncated life revisited, remade, 

created again – a new footprint from 

an old cotton beast taken across five seas, 

three continents to reach the shoreline of mythos 

where it becomes once again something exotic, profitable. 

footprints in the sand too light to feel real, an imprint of a dream 

no life is safe from the ego of creation – even humanity is anatomized 

head removed from body, skull from jaw, molars reprioritized 

to the end of progress (in its falsehood, becoming myth) 

a missing link – how we became so untenably cruel 

in our hubris. if God is all around us in beauty, 

in nature, in light, then what will be shown- 

God shatters at the sight. Refraction 

of creation, what is left  

when we move 

forward.