(Michael Timmins)

[First released on the "30-Hour Famine" benefit album]

Transcribed by Jason



Go Hollow boned and feathered she fell to him,

wriggling perdition she plucked

from deep within

Feasted high on flowering branches

the fruit of his heart

he gave willingly for her song

From fresh wounds were gathered

thick sheaves of love

He lay open palmed to her world:

she stretched in arched abeyance,

holding thunderclap and starlight in one mind



Sad to see the season go

I'll miss the crackling of the air,

the loss of all I know

Sad to see the season go



Indian corn and the bitter taste of envy in the air

Mired now in cyclic decay. The nag of conquest

Skeletal arms embrace a withering world



Sad to see the season go

I'll miss the crackling of the air,

the loss of all I know

Sad to see the season go



Locked here these dreams of you,

imperfect dormant seeds

There is a dignity to this solitude,

a sparkling ambiguity

both liquid and solid at one time