Jews Harp Twang

there is something about the simplistic shape of a conundrum an ancient voice in modern mouth in cartloads for the few to quell where ice finding comfort in flames many a throat bending breath singing like electric birds of paradise fully charged and chirping hum and twang and cooing purr songbirds, my blackened raven thaw from towers, steel beauty, caw across tropics, canopies and solitudes sweet openings to a midnight's play oh warm to my lips, my songbird, warm we fill each other, marry