in the back shack cobweb sheds
milked in the craw of the cow cat fields
thistled along the corrugated night
drawn to the black woods
nestled in chestnuts
fox streamed and crow nested
genuflecting to the edifice
of Tir John
of bricks uncounted
built by stone-dead men
for a million volts of power
humming this witching hour
lying blue upon the marsh
duck downed
in slinking sleep
the damned night unfurled
that sintered claw
that midnight cindered thought 
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