Voices

Voices raise their heads
Stealthily coming out of all corners
They tap  me on the back, quietly imprison me
And throttle me by the neck
Voices you are a prayer

I bow to you, O Voices
I seek fragrance from you, O Voices

Voices of hills shape into crescendo
A movement towards which I gently aspire
Of strange ululation of drunks; weird prophecy
Man surely is beast

In blistering solitude I listen to
Voices of friends calling, calling
Like the ghostly moon descending

As evening settles down into hushed
Anonymity.