On a scrap of paper in an old notebook

On a scrap of paper in an old notebook

Raw:

O fiery voice full of bitter song

    and loud rumble.

Crashing voice that fills our cells with silence.

Lonely howling of our wolf soul

    Seeking blood.

The perfection of my hands

    That lets knowledge slip away

    Like water into a well.

    Faint splashes echoing in the blindness.

Pure light is strumming a mistuned guitar.

    Pure sound. A taste of soft pear nectar.

Cooked:

...O fiery voice, full of twanging colors,

    Reverbing static.

Crashing voice

    And the faint trembling of a leaf.

Prophetic howling. O wolf voice.

    And within it,

    Gnawing on splintered bone.

The perfection of words,

    That lets knowledge drip

    Like water into a well.

Faint splashes echoing in blindness.

O pure light, strummed on a mistuned guitar.

Pure sound

    With the tang of raw sienna...

Tyler, please analyze and comment! – smb