3 March 2008

The maze, the crowd
the men, the smell
of what we’ve seen
and where we are

The cow in the pool
on the hot thin wire
four baptists go into the metal tower
for the memory of future,
the sound of letters,
the paintings of numbers,
the pages of colours

The gold mine is empty
The river is slow
The shoes are empty
Floating from the rail

The soul is empty
The hands are old
The body is empty
Soaking in the oil

Preserve the gold mine
and the sand dunes
from the wind
and the blow
from hands
and growth