Thirty winding – three winding – thirty twisted rock – chewing clove. saturated natural grass rocks irish fog. Humming sounds – echos calling. People located scattered in the hills – I can’t see them, but they call to one another – back and forth – like birds – loud humming sounds… ether pale canary sounds filtered through their eyes. listening through the phone wind. to the ice they could hear shards piercing the streams as glass. wandered the banks for the dove. for sprigs of the clove. wine gum collected in the buckets dark amber pools of sap. rearranging to the fall of the red hour. sticks stuck and slicing into the fallen ground. the two were walking there. in the place where secret keys move. golden sweet and in sleep. I have one moment in my eyes mindedly – crowns, ash covered bodies in righteous pink ritual – I see through the hills – clear as a whisp. They see me and call in together – my body falls away – engolded sweet and wake water take breathing scream. Big smile now. Looking down, locking singing – I remember this knot. Just there in the juniper where the mind makes _spaces____. sparks. sparkling ahead. crawling forward and down. the face of seama sighing. taking their bridled blows to the edges. where they dried white skins tan. for the sea cake calling a brilliant distance. Ocean air water droplet spire. Thirty bodies – each by its idol – each singing – hum when is this – flattening the land with their oscillations. Now aware, a rock presents itself to me and says – “offer” – I twist him with my will and shed my hammer, string, skin.