Encumbered
speak in a tin jar
make sounds dine
in plopping cool
water drops fine
and guitar's echo of the ear
roll into thirsty souls
the bronze that I hear
a sound like cool
little liquid bridges
in a pool
a pile
of priests
meet
in a world at war
calling strong rivers
from afar
four
strumming the strings
of the brown guitar
speaking a tin beat
and songs like cool
little bridges in a pool
ordain white and black
in the season of the street
they who play the guitars
splashing hope they who meet
encumbered feet
