Wunderkind

I old
Earth

angel
wandering

reap old
Mister Lee

on by
the phone

burn bold
rocks off

bed-rested
(robins)

and bother
nothing goin’

whole-alone
Oh all my

blown feat
crying thirsting

my great God
fails simple

mercy to reduce
oh;

I’m listening
a still

slow moving
evening

the wilted
mill saw

ruin in
its truce