kekn to dirty black

Dirty Black,

Sing timeless though time
smolder throats, grain and the gray

almond to clay and stone and you'll see
I gave at least tongue against

an inert slaughter, columns
for convulsive and encroaching in demon

limbs which limbs would flame in the fire
of fights at bars in the knife

to the night's hour, boredom
and second rate whores in the heart of your songs---

your weeping is a dead bird in September;
your boredom its last branch.

-Kekn