December 2010
Feed Me Rags
Bound my eyes so I can’t see,
And I will never speak to thee.
Blackbirds broke their rhythmic wing,
And did in cheerful chorus sing,
Of the plans made in pure hatred.
The underbrush in time so putrid,
Retire your weapons to their tree,
Dead and carved,
To give me peace.
In black and white they frame the walls,
And echo cries that litter the halls.