i have traveled like the snail

resolved in a spur of the moment

arriving and departing and

habitual he returns again

i travel slowly and stop a lot

the light through a wilderness

of angry sparks flying up as

they appeal to stars to save them

but nothing can

i have kept my motherfucking

mouth shut just like i was told

to do in accommodation always

a hollow truth told by hyenas

at the edges of the fire in agamemnon’s

wars

i can always hear the hyenas breathing

and strange deathbeds of ten sons calling

just beyond the hill