wounded echo. Crumbly shale of ocean
plates makes for din of dinner-party brawl

while descending in a broken country
scramble from the mountain's shrugging

shoulders. In the kicking crush of footprints,
a micro avalanche of each soul's presence.

Man's a gnawing animal lugging
the ancient crowbar of his want. Woman

too, jimmying, prying her womb open
to deliver a blue sachet of goods

and bads. Power vacuums all the tiny
valuables into its silk purse of prophets.