The Brothers
Tunnel voices
beneath the city
The Dagar Brothers
carve through air and stone
Ancient throats
Ice-scrape lungs
Wild boars overturn
the gardens of order
Motorcycles strain
against their chains
Dogs of longing
foam in the roadside dark
Presence tilts
in the machinery of repetition
I lie myself into being
Rain against the glass
Bruised skies above Harg
The Brothers rise
through the final reaches of hearing
Then only
the tyranny of the present
bubbling over
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Written on 2026-05-13 at 17:52
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