A Fire Grows Upon the Grove

by Woebe Guns

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from Tandem Storms, Pt. I


A fire grows upon the grove
Where tired men behead the crop
When morning comes it could be late

Sinew left an hour ago
Where sinew left to, I don't know
If morn' shall come, I should be dead

Their teeth bled cold by the fire

A fire rests beyond the plains
The flesh beyond the ghost contained
Morn' had come never again

I had to come, I had to know
And had I not, I'd die alone
Come sit with me
Let morning come

Like a drone drawn out
Or a snare that ties in doldrums
Lie here still, my love

Their teeth bled cold by the fire
Long lost in thought, fuel for your nightmares

Lie here still, my love
And sing


released February 5, 2014



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Woebe Guns San Juan, Puerto Rico

Astrolabio was created in 2009, in a grimy room in the heart of hell. After a long hiatus from 2011 to 2013, and an exile into the depths yonder, Woebe Guns took form. Shedding old skin and trying on a face-lift, trying on a foreign face, Woebe Guns glorifies the absurdity of life and the longing of all living forms to copulate and fulfill the will of nature, and accept the chaos herein and forth. ... more

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