I tread on stones
breaking into ice
I tread on stones
changing to water
fossil not stones
changing into ringing
gun shots
bullets not water
are they illusions
guns into bodies
bodies into death
rivers into blood
I tread on them
my eyes cannot
hold,which is what.
At night I dream
peacefully of animals
skinned,and bodies
men, women and children
swathed in all white.
Sleeping peacefully.
I do not tread.
Somehow sleep must
not be disturbed.
Now,I am going to tread
on their dreams.
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