#read-poetry #poetry Limping, wrapped in tattered ink black cloaks, now take in the Life of isolation. Rejected instead we Invented the church, now seated‬ in trees‪seeding our treasure chestsfrom round our necks. Songs without key or measure ‬Sing from the ribs‪Spacing the breaths, peeling back fascia with rusted old tools. Oh, alchemy, come find our… Read More Anathema