Blare a song and a story
They hear me I
Thump across the quarry of
Lost ships
graveyard of stars left a
Trench of old coughing energy
Tired balls of light coiled up in a
chest like unused yarn
Stepped across creaking wooden floors
Groaning corridor of a hoarder, hoarse
trees summoning a history of wounded
falling. Thick fruits of withered seeds, how
did you grow so full, ask the moon a
question only to be denied by the clouds,
loud living only sounded as a rasping drum
but echoes up and down the body. Cavern
of spirits dance the paintings on rock,
sleeping the solstice yet stepping from sky
to stone. Turn home and alone
