far

oh fire that you would burn and waste me to the sky.
the words swing pendulums no one seems to hearken,
but waste me in fire-hard-shafts,
take me far away and forget.
..can't you sleep in sound, grandfather, and tear me off a wall of boulder trees?
i am dancing with knees of granite stone
and you a lamb in my little eyes.
i am the parchment hands, that wrap the folds
around the spoken old. i am the parchment hands,
that march and fold and particalate the old.
grandfather, forget what they have told
what you've been told
wrap yourself in paper folds and make yourself old.