Esoterico

What echoes are these 
from mouths hidden far
from the judges' mouths?

Each round of redound
asserts another ground
where sound cannot found

another organized glacier.
Our defrosted times 
are covered in marsh.

Is it too harsh to assert
that for fails
to be for anything?

Call us prepositional,
we eccentrics,
we mountain unpeopled 

people. 
Our hands form objects
that our words describe

for listeners who only hear
across the world
our butterfly wings.