What Is Not the Hunger

It feels like something should be,
And maybe the feeling is.
The hunger itself seems strange

Among unhungry gravel
Of crumbled rocks and writing
Just lying about as being.

But inside fuel consumption,
Where the hunger’s burning hot,
Can there be not the hunger?

In the pit of a city,
In the fusing guts of stars,
In an animal’s anger

Lashing out with hooves and knives,
Is anything not hunger?
What says so doesn’t move much.