I see the spirit walking
the roads, are lamb
more or less bulled
in the faint light of
their spirit self.
the songs linger,
in short repeating souds
not old enough to fade away
grasses, they bend towards
the arch, in its grain it hibernate
making the even bed.
In between houses, in between
trees, in beween mines the crickets
sings the dong song, she spear grass
the pigeons lying besides rind leaves
who am i, mortal man, not to sleep
speared in rare shadows of my shortcomings?
The doors are closed against every rising hour
their fangs blowing the cool breeze – sea breezed.
So it is time to sleep keep your mind at peace
Many buyers who buy, are being boated
and the traders traded for this trade
stones, sleep and have a good night.
TIMES ARE HARD.
waters are hard
as hard as stones
thus, knowing well
water is life
She said life is hard
my child, times