To the Voices that Lie

To the voices that lie
Under the ice and the fallen leaves
Without the true strength to stand.

To the voices that lie in the grave
Over-built with a merry go round
Drowned out by music and laughter

To the thousand voices of the civic world
With thin bird skeleton feathers burned by fire
With the heads of dead foxes hanging on walls

To the weeds choking the voices growing amongst them
With a retinue of princes and princesses
And an audience of sixty six

To the voices prized by the dead
Wearing the crowns of death
Whose words are nests that fall apart in the wind

I’ve heard so many and forget so many
And they pass by like the grass of the field