Journey into the Unknown Interior

What good is a canary in a minefield instead of a mine? The canary's
heart searches the mine for clues, the little caverns in all of us, and when
the bird starts to strangle you know something's wrong. Above ground,
you might as well open up the cage and let go. Tiptoe into the chirr,

crickets? Requires research, though the bales stacked in the cardinal
directions could be ancient cars stuffed with hay. Flat obsidian everywhere.
Dreams, conquering, aren’t this plot of land (though the plot thins with
the days passing. With the hesitation), and it’s not exactly a place to hold

roots, make loves, field questions. The question
was whether napalm bombs without fuses were incendiary bombs or gasoline in
steel drums. Pea, you can close your eyes now.
Single pea, the damage is done. The canary is a home, a molter,

a quitter and is no help for you after the landmines have been placed
into the ground like children living for a few more minutes under the packed
dirt before the shovels halt. What more will happen when I enter
this country? Don’t look now the sky is falling sideways.