Poem

I hope murat11 doesn't mind I stole a few stanzas from his, Strange Gnus: Jazzable Sweet, and added a little of mine.

and he said,
in the darker spaces
in the darker air
in the darker whispers
of the dark dark darkened snare

and her reply slow,
oh i've been there
tangled and entwined
listen not
as a trail i do leave

and he said,
no proper names
no foreign gold
no clumsy gifts
no rough-cut wood
no tuneless songs
no happy years
no crying bench
no centered lives
no field of tears
no sprouted wings
no rebel wind
no high-pitched worry
the thick and chilly white—

and her reply slow,
what kingdom then am i

I feel like I'm leaving this unended but I've got to go.