The Kettle’s On

Cypress, lead, and elm
Your lock three feet, four feet
Eight feet, four

Anyway, have you heard the dust
Scratching your name
Whilst the birds are sweetly singing?
Suspect the stars will eat your name?

Draw jokes on doom of planets
Whilst the birds are slowly singing
Whilst you shine cats in the snow
Through my window crack, they swirl
And the light is bright around their paws
At the rest of bed, they sleep
And the light is bright around their eyes
And they soar on kitten wings, lidless
And their joy is bright, light in heart

Did I glimpse messiah seeking donkey?
When the knife born near my heart
Behind polite kindness king
Cain moves our jaws
Cain is tongue in our mouth
Our hands stretch link with Cain's tendons
And behind the skin covering
Slow Bones is mask and mark of Abel's brother

By all the rivers, we shall doze
Dust storm and bone storm
Twilit skies, the birds are sadly singing
For hopeless queen and hopeless king
The kettle's on, and our work is done

Burn those horsies
And the flaming horsies will flick past your eyes
And fear god in the house of thousand of bones
Which there a thousand witches, know as their home
Seven gates and a thousand witches in every nook
Lay down for your appointed time

And hear the birdsong singing
And see the birds sing
"Bring you to me"
And sing me your name
Prophet– prophetess
And a thousand witches rise for you in the red house
In the red barn, they sing
And the birds are surely singing

In the night, the children sing
In the market square, the girl is dead
And by the fair, the fair boy is dead
And the birds are slowly singing
But my head is writing in me and through me
And in my head, the plain is burning

Softly sweetly sing the birds, there's flame in the trees
And fire in the salt