some of us are still missing

a dearth in the hearth this Christmas more dirt in burial filled in by stranger hands these lessons begin bringing fruition the idea of man mortality on billboards sorrow hung on clothes’ line out back we sing low dirt tossed over solemn vow one day trodden down howl, will you cold wind baying wolf at moonrise obsequy for prey fallen interment, hallowed sound soil turned over night rich smells of fallen so visceral dig deeper when they make my bed, love I fear I may not make my own funeral, love just bury what you need to say take your … Continue reading some of us are still missing