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 the moon bites caress inside a Windkissed harvest


Lifting,

pressing land and mountains home to Godan blood