I have tasted earth
in the lips of the dead.
When they travel into birth
with my words unsaid.

I have eaten flowers
that was grown in the sky.
Some grew taller than towers
where I jumped into a hollow bye.

I have seen gods on spoon
roaming the soup pots of old mothers,
rubbing their staff to reflect the moon,
some had guts to come with their brothers.

I have written these words to life.
So you make merry alive and get a wife.
Do all your guts says, if why just strife.
If life ties your neck, these words will be a knife.

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