Blackbird Raum
Crumbs
crumbs from the table have fallen so few so not to catch an eyereckless and thinkless and felled to the knees to gather before before the broomwhat is left amongst the spire that is as tall as the lowest cloud you could reckon the height ofhanging on a branch here every time(though never fell so far)from which we lift these blistered hands only to cursethe families get nothing but porridge of maize and shacks at the end of farmscash crops commissioned to pay of the debt and poisoned on the jobdriving the mules to death in the wheat then leaving us follow with leather to eatburied their sabers in the field and sharpen bayonets
From Letras Mania