The young singer goes round
demanding an audience
“if they don't lend me their ears soon enough
I'll start cutting some off”
The old singer sits still
content to sing his songs
into the mouth of a cave
“the cave’s deep lovely echo
is all the audience I need these days”
The middle-aged singer no one's seen in weeks
They say chasing his songs has taken him
all the way to the ends of the earth
where he's been digging a hole with bare hands
to bury his name
& sits to one side of it awaiting the rain
The songs he sings now are not of this world
& neither is his audience