legion dull blueberry in your face to company...
Skill as per love in vice getting ready for the tour tonight,
Milky Way across the get way seek through a tongue display
I wrap myself in sheep leather,
kick heavy snow over its own tough skin
Snow, daylight, ghosts in my mouth

Here my round Slovak face feels like
whale meat on soapstone, I cannot
touch myself without screaming
With a fist of Slavic I toss
old forgotten language to birds
sleep in flight, in snaring ice they stuff

their faces in their wings
Hold to the wooden arms of bare oak
I walk like this alone, old country
boots munching the field
This snow is the snow of Urals
swarming upward, ashes & birds
frozen solid into stars