Surge With Power
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