eat up the days

Children running in the Wohnung
eating up the days
in a sleep like cutting, slice
it into musical strains.
Fly voices of the tiny young.

Eating up the days
bright hallway running down
into sleep and cutting out
the thoughts, still seeing
burrows forming, sticks, soft clay.

Steaming rain and gay men music
rising from the Hof, and dogs’
fly voices from the tiny young
musical strains of drowned barking.

From sleep like cutting, like a graze
sight comes up through layers of hour
so fast, submarine now light, banking,
eat up those thought sounds, no alarm.