if 1495 is easy
if 2001 is the same
year, the names on the litter
change, is all, the naming
the seasons
brick up
a fear of loving
translated to history
where names are etched out
are sewn in the voice
the fabric, the logic
is wrong
& chase the net of ghouls
all money is
will brick up the gates
the dangerous rhythms
the ashes, the river
will fill all mouths
that talk wild talk
& rain he said yes
there is a
spot of ink my
face could
scrub the
shells to keep
the voice in locked &
earth
warm
flood
poor locked
devils that we are
shell