The Fragments
The fragments of long periods of forgotten lineage
Lose most of their meaning when the moon is full,
The birds told
And barked into the sky, an unattractive sound coming
From throat and beak of the feathered spirit
Fragments are what we collect
String and sticks and shit you throw
On the ground
but elevated, surrounding our youth
We are just working
With what is available, some
Thing that you could not imagine