See
earth fill cloth
.
Hear
ditches in still trickle
.
Hamstringing Fate.
.
Waiting three Sundays.
.
Breaking nested dusk — Cracks
Opening the drum — Cracks
Frozen solid wells — Cracks
Making torched night paths there black-clad birds dances
while moon bites caress inside a Windkissed harvest
.
Lifting,
pressing land and mountains home to Godan blood