Long stick-strewn paths
wheels broke and fertile soaring
wet pillars out of the earth
archways of fire and deathliness
walked firmly under
and I am the spirit that roves
over all these streets
documenting and guarding
tracks of time tampered with
a branch that's testing roots
a shadow rife with seeds and words
an empty cabinet waiting open
in streaks of see-through wall
and wailing water.