From the Shuddering Hill and Hope Well,
——cloudburst and snowflake,

——I weave Madwoman’s Stones to
Crowden Tower,

——I am the raindrop’s lips
————–on hart’s tongue ferns,
I wander as mist-drift,
——-moortop pool,

I shape-shift to bog-beacon,
——-sculpt the Downfall and Moat Stone,

I drink sheep-dip, engine oil,
——cow-piss, cement-dust,

then go to ground in underearth,
——pulse through root-line, limestone.

I am spar-vein and gritstone,

I am the river beneath the river.
What seeps and drips in dark will rise to light.


From Magma 88, Underworld

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