The Text (Poem)

When the house can build itself

It is alive

When the creature can speak

It is smart enough

For who, that is judge?

It is a snarky messenger that sings songs

That creeps in wonder but cries to death

That reeks its odors but peeks its neck

When that ghost disappears

There in a cabin burned the text

Also all its stuff

You need those words

But they turn while they dissolve

You seek the toilet

But the closure of release is not clear

Is it that churned next step in your ear?

For whatever fight comes ahead