Monday, 25 May 2015



Man, they were menacing
and ends of their long fingers were roots
of monsters strange streaming deep
through impenetrable shadows
of golden light like arched gate
old wood
where grass hissed green snakes
and voices murmur angrily, it
could be seen, behind them
the people of children who
they feared and then they
fell, oh singers, they fell,
they fell silent and tossed
into upon waves
upon rivers stark
naked with bones and
a loneliness astrand.



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