SPRINGSONG

With my dark gift of tongues
I speak up blind decaying masks
an eagle's shrill
voices of stolen children in a magic cave
swish of a sealion's hungry swirl

with my dark gift my gift of tongues
I tongue a trumpet up
a blast of flesh a breath of mould
a hypnagogic slash of death

I tease up tangled roots of earth
shake off the lumps of solitude
and climb and climb for sight of sun

until with my bright gift of tongue
I wring out light from crumbled clothes
dash up a flash of foam and air
speak down the northern flames of night
make bright make bright the winter night

I speak up spring tonight tonight
with my dark gift of tongues

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