Dancing on the surface of my eyes
the acoustics of the sands
The swarming song inside the heat
of the breath of dead sleep
That rocks the empty boats
tied up to the barren shores
and pounded by crumbling forts

I've found the dead cities of Syria
lost in the sands
The grains of ghosts
and traces of (various) apocalypses
and of men never born
Smouldered, harassed and bothered
where the stood, angelically,
shoulder to shoulder

In solitary landscapes empty men watches
Delicate pigments of gone silhouettes

There was life here
before the sands swept through the waters
and replaced the rapids
and sung and howled in between the houses