I feed from many roots

I feed from many roots – graze
From the fulfillment of terror    I

Sleep on the minds of most dream-
Wary taletellers    I have not

Sung for a long time    I feed
From the boot of heaven – praise

The palate of uneven snow    I
Weep for wearyeyed woven wonders

I have not sung for a long time &
This grief eats whatevers whatnots

We cut through the
midstream mocking

the hammer
   that settles upon the mereness
   of being   wherein what dissolves is us

this part of us that sticks to the grain
this part of us that rests upon mereness