And Just The Birds...

Cemetery Of Screams

Elegy of silent windows of wind in the boughs of the trees

of the plain of lights wrapped up in a grief

The crest of roof broken'n'left walls overgrown of grass'n'wine

white shrub washed down of drops of storm windows bunged with rotten boards

And just the birds live here wanderers from distant hills

the bringin' the breath of a space breath of unreal impetus