(These are just voices)

they tell stories
of the boy who died with lip cancer
from drinking the air too deeply
and I listen to water

worry you between
the beggars at the gates
and the threshold of a great palace
playing a tambourine for both sides

I was born inside all these walls
you have held close to town and city hearts
you were taken far along the river's push
marked by footpath stones
past many ferns and the solitude of spiders

craters are waking up in the voidlessness
your way is strangely pure
we dropped sunsets in afternoon
ran past twilight looking
to see so much sand covering the bridges