This Tuesday's Prayer

On the skin
whistle the birdsong
and burns the breath of a golden sun,
and runs turbulent with the current of a river.

I won't talk about the root today,
I don't want this music off today;
today the echo of the dead will be deafened
and an eruption of the things that inhabit
in the worlds below
will match the rhythm of this music
today...

So what if a dry leaf
of those trees that in the distance
swaying in the cold mountain breeze
so what
if all that persists
suddenly falls into a deep well...
Today there is music and blood
it's going out of control.

Amen.