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Elegy for a Wolf

Excerpt from Bucolica

By Rob AngeliPublished 4 months ago 5 min read
Sketch by the author after Poussin's Et in Arcadia

ELEGY FOR A WOLF, Mopsy’s Master What’s-His’Name returns to the field, to give us his promised Elegy, composed in his Youth for Just Such an Occasion from wolfnotes and sheepnotes called:

Living w/Wolves

The Global Wolf

Team Wolf (AlfaWulf Pack)

She-Wolf (gulp gulp) Dusk

down in a deep dark den hunched a dire wulf munching a meat snack

lean found howl of a muzzled carrion beast left the beef fields

slowly by centuries’ masonry thick in the sheltering wood while

safe in the wolf den’s warmth slept the cubs softly dreaming the chase

there in the den’s dark deep for the shaman gnawing on bone shards

fast-pace of gun-fearing stealth shines tracking its ravenous prey

howling for sensation of sound sign referral honing my hounds he’s

starved in the shadow of herdsmen or deep in the sheltering wood

hidden in forest primeval beneath arguing beeches and oaks

there to digest if he’s hidden away once so proud in the sun

heath-beast heathenry calls me to hide from the flickering wide

Well is known that sith the Saxon king

Never was wolf seen, many nor some,

Nor in all Kent, nor in Christendom;

where have all the lobos gone?

STRANGLER Night Terror/Day Prowess

mien and demeanor of the Wolf

in the war the years can wage w/souls

there in the dread dim dank

as if the shine were shattering down

the wolves have followed us around for hope

of primary fuckin reinforcements since

the dawn of time else ever since we launched

our pact of competition follow the

leader off to sheep or to battlegrounds

by migratory habits bloom the flocks

by mythic mass migrations rove the wolves

our migratory habits bear the wars

in either case [keep coming back for more!]

we witness here the cyclic feast



from the Wulfsaga

Because two things seem to attract wolves to centers of human activity: our booming of animal husbandry and the battlefields of our warlust’s expanses in field progress

not the fearful snatcher of living hominid prey

but scavenger in cadaverous fields vast of carnage

waste not want not




Greedy One



Wild One

Naturally Man’s wrist is the Wolf-Joint

werewolf and horndog the Strangler is also called Deor or Mutton or Wolf maybe even a bear or a bull but Beast briefly it bears the horns of some or another stage of the moon but Strangler or Choker is also the anatomy of the human hand and a three tiered genealogical stratification:

He too was as much Father Faunus as the Goat was

oh Dear Deer,

(and strangling a stray member of the

masses was a matter of nutrition)

For the way fangs fix upon the windpipe

and shake, the Strangler is also called Wolf:

When we wolfishly welcomed the sheep and

sheepishly welcomed the wolf in our fold

when what feasts willingly were offered up

in worship of the wolfgod by manly

brotherhood of the wolf the Wolf Brothers

perhaps terrible feasts

if suckt gemininely at shewulf whore tits

a process of identification

in doggish downgrades fawning

Gulp gulp

Greedy-One (Heath-Beast): but I rave, although it is correct to paraphrase blood or carrion in terms of the beast which is called Strangulator by calling them his Meat and Drink—it is not correct to express them in terms of other beasts

but other forms...

and I prate, even though actual attacks on human beings for foodsource or otherwise are few and far between extremely rare contested in entirety even though some accounts of children snatched by the lupine maw exist even outside familial Folklore.

Where have all the Wolves gone?

Not only Neglect, ye herdsmen, but Hatred! it is familiar.

When we rejected the MonsterFaces

[turned to shame]

With WelpGod and HowlBrothers object of Hate,

for what they ate

and so the WOLFHUNT

[turned to blame]

even eviler than the Satan Goat [we couldn’t face]


O Warden of Woodland Field and Mountain

Identity that we couldn’t face so

that it turned to shame and it changed to blame

so that Cubbing Season becomes Clubbing Season from the Middle-Ages onward for the righteous endeavor of an annual tribute of 300 wolfskins from such-and-such a king so such-another king in expiation for our own bloodletting

Post the Shame Season and Blame Reason of Lycanthropy from Ago and Anon, Redemption via Extermination

in the CUBBING SEASON Propagation—

A Profanation. We didn’t mean to. Merely the ambitions of blind beasts. Long time ago. Like the Nuragic MonsterTrees of Bronze Age Sardinia.


Charlemagne is said to have assembled a special Corps of wolf-hunters called the Louveterie, a Body Politic abolished in the French Revolution ALSO//

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle states that January was known as Wolf Monath for the sporting nobility’s monthlong wolfchases//AND

By the Norman kings granted land distribution if duly duty of wolf-hunter was amply fulfilled in furs//

WHILE Mary Queen of Scots was known to have hunted wolves in the Forest of Atholl in 1563//

but I do prate and rave, what I really mean is about

the long times passing

some still remain

hidden away

benefiting from new Patronage

where have they gone

they the Sicilians even mourned stone graffiti

on to the tomb, this poem and others like it,

when they gathered to interpret the inscription

even officialized in secret in the crypts of Kent,

most in elegiac couplets


My Bucolica is a modern reboot of the "eclogue" form originating in Classical Greece and Rome and much rehashed throughout all European literature. It usually comes in the form of a collection of shepherd's songs, dialogues, and stories featuring themes of love/desire, nature/the seasons, death/mortality, and the passing of time. It is often a playground to poeticize the animal world and humankind's relation to it, as well as particulars of the seemingly idyllic life led by simple shepherds and farmers in Arcadia. It is also referred to as bucolic literature. I wrote my Bucolica 2017-2018 in a mix of poetry and prose.

surreal poetrysocial commentaryperformance poetrynature poetryart

About the Creator

Rob Angeli

Experimental poetry and prose; fixed-form free-fall, endeavor to produce a multi-sourced and multiform jubilee of various objects and emotional stances. And free for all, so step right up.

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