the dire wick and the stone muck

´╗┐the rebellion stokes the 
   hurt fire,

the damp beckoning of green

the dire wick, the stone
   muck and much 


the gift of battle is a
   sworn sword,

a leaflet thorn out of
   a red book

that thumbs its echoes
   with vigor.

the eye of the little 'no' is
    a pinprick, 

the dust in the feather's

its grasp of matter and its
    debited song.