Progressing by quotidian,
In those buttressed
Mountains,
With scaliness rocks,
And wounds,
That are towns,
And cities for lizards,
And rock rabbits.

Trees squashed and,
Squeezed.
There standing,
A sequestered,
Crumbing shack.

Dots of grass,
Celebrating,
It's glorified crown,
Centuries back.

Tears of scattered,
Stones from lonely
Graves behind its back.

This shack is a shield,
To a desclined
Man.

Beating a bursting,...