568 Readings | 4 Ratings

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
Comments (0)
Would you like to leave a comment on this profile? Join Ink Node for a free account, or sign in if you are already a member.