Tiny Sticks
Molten candles lit 3,100,000,000 times
my virgin vigil, not new but innocent and unexpected nonetheless
burly blues voices drudging at its best
paired with the sweetest haze of ash and smoke
a voodoo mess leaking from every nail hole in my walls
prayer don't seem to be workin' here no mo'
you be there, far
i still be here
folded limbs and sticks be my comfort ohm
all around me
ashen and parched sings a tongue which puts out every flame
from those tiny sticks
them sticks that drum, then sticks that bind
kindling you up out the bowl
just like i used to
and you'd come back to me eyes wide and shut
no sight, just blind
faithful to my studio
where i've cleared the sticks and fire away.
No comments:
Post a Comment