words left unspoken must

turn to song

like a dead bird

learning to crawl

 

becomes the ants that eat it

pieces carried off like loot

from the shop of God

laid at the fat queen’s foot

 

those who snap your brain, nip your heels

those who have never seen these hills

those atomic archons will

die under the weight

of their own making

 

casually flinging planets from their

lips each face has Dark Night

of The Soul written all over it

in a code of which only

you are illiterate