THE TERRAIN IS A FUNCTION OF SOUND
I go mainly with strangers
before insight
They welcome me to excavate
whole ravines of welcome
We are slung too low
for our gods
to find us eating lunch
in the convincing dark
of pissed out forest fires
and hand drawn caves
Having arbitrarily hatched
early this morning
I make the strangest signs
one finds oneself
in caves I find
I am a cave
full of piano strings
a ruinous habitat for bats
Between myself
and all the motifs and
megaphones aimed
at my sympathetic system
I become a louder song
Count my age
according to the decay
within of waves
Posted 03/19/13