Hunger

I only find within my bones, A taste for eating earth and stones When I feed, I feed on air, Rocks and coals and iron ore My hunger, turn. Hunger, feed: A field of bran Gather as you can the bright, Poison weed Eat the rocks a beggar breaks The stones of ancient churches' walls Pebbles, children of the flood, Loaves left lying in the mud Beneath the bush a wolf will howl, Spitting bright feathers From his feast of fowl: Like him, I devour myself Waiting to be gathered, Fruits and grasses spend their hours; The spider spinning in the hedge, Eats only flowers Let me sleep! Let me boil! On the altars of Solomon; Let me soak the rusty soil, and flow into Kendron