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.