Blackbirds.
The
blackbirds which fly to the top of
The field in a flock
Then
turn to the corn and rip it and
Rend it and spoil it
I
am writing a charm to make the
Blackbirds fly.
From
my room of power, from my
Chair of power, with my pen of
Power, I write.
Blackbirds!
Hear my voice as I throw
My thought towards ,you as my pen
Traces the path you must take.
The
blackbirds flew up to the top of
the sky.
It is time to fly south
The
blackbird mass turned screaming
It is time to fly south
The
blackbirds flew towards the sea
Towards
the morning
It is time to fly south.
The
Blackbirds are gone.