Rush

The crush of crowds
Is Earth’s new vice,
Like plagues and wars
And swarms of mice.

More crowds of words
Back from the dead
Now ours, not yours,
Rush through your head.

Crowds rush down roads
With roars and shouts.
You float up slope.
Your corpse wants out,

But still the wind
That plaits your hair
Brings its own voice
To nest in there.