black out the moon is
white out the sky.
empty blocks of color
talking back and forth
through rotten teeth
falling out and crawling
back into the darkness
of the mouth of our mind.

strings of sentences slide by
like a pit of snakes and multiply.

over time the old ones die
and the young ones left alive
swim out of it and get
back onto the hillside to dry.

ancient spirits watch it rain hawks
through the whites
of dead men's eyes
who still walk and inhabit the night.