But how find how as it flew onward & the mountains gave back the sound to say what I mean the call of the bird & the echoe after to say I've seen? Raven hungers and calls and the mountain Hungers back and calls The whole range of peaks in the bird's beak. Raven lonely and the mountain rings
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The wars are everywhere, o even within.
Drawn in poor bee by the dance loud hum
Of some other tribe, poor bee. Even the center, even the heart,
Keeps a sting sharp: art stings thought, thought stings art.
Petty realm of the long known. Are there other ways to learn to sing?
Clash of long dead blades in the fallow fields
And the wind that blows truce for an hour whistles loud the rash
Martial tune. Some scribe handles himself. “Use it,” sings the song.