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