Electrokrill

Don’t comfort me by wizard’s craft, Seeing twice a witch’s eye spells are ready to my hand, and needn’t further lye. The wizards beg dusty books, alas they haven’t roots nor bone. Cut out parchment, bleached, knowing no growth beside tone. A wizard sings! Songs of mud. A witch, the dirt-dance. Dancing tonight with us and together dirt-dance. Oh listless, listen! Know what witch bare truths loudly.…