By grace,
· One min read

He unearthed
His knife,
Dipped it
In clouds,
And heaped
Them upon
The morning

He unearthed
His knife,
Dipped it
In clouds,
And heaped
Them upon
The morning

Molten petals sweep
Into night.
And awaiting awaking,
I breathe,
For I am the mastodon.
I am the birdshout.
I am the awakening
Night.