oi oi alas alas
The bodies fall everywhere soft and misformed as mud
sinking into the earth like sleep
What is it that makes these urgent, unquiet dreams?
Cupped eyes of children gather knowledge like a thirst
until that hand cracks them spilling tears like blood
cateracts, like lies, form patches across time
Pulling strands of memory
each one fine as wire
through my naked teeth
Knives and teeth ring my dreams
silent guardians too steep, a glass mountain I
cannot climb with these bare feet
and empty hands
Yet somehow through closed doors and ages
thin as ghosts of children the memories come
sliding along the shafts into my brain.
I pull them out one by one, and taste them
each one whisper thin, fine as spun sugar
or an airless scream that sets birds to flight,
filling the air with shadows.