What can I bring?
To this world of candy trees
Those moss filled vines tickling me up through my spine.
Is it the open sky?
The voices in the field?
Black rituals make the gathering tremble when the women begin to fly.
Say it doesn’t matter to make you weep near the highway.
Like Lead Belly said, “In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don’t ever shine”
We can hold each other till sunrise.