Free in narrow alleyways
 That block out sun
 Portland
 In air
 (question:) “evil” on tongue
 Darkthrone in headphones
 Climbing stairs
 To the gallery
 Phil sang about in “Soria Moria”
 I prefer Balke, Stetind in Fog:
 No humans
 It transports me back
 To that mountain
 Later at Helvete I’m further back:
 Thirteen years old, alone with headphones
 Sound blankets my mind
 Like pills now
 In that basement chills come
 Feeling stronger than art
 Youth and memory--
 That sound once spoke to me, it said