We Birds

It settled its great black ballast,
Quenched as the ant men fled,
Grasped by the tides that whispered,
Gushing hot rasping breath,
Pulsing the heaving shingle,
Drugged listlessly it slept,
Dark bile slipped into green gold salt,
And the stealthy canker crept.

Stained the shallows unravelled,
Sealed in a sable mask,
Melting the tar borne serpent,
Spewing its ebony cast,
Pouring the endless ichor,
Strangled with coils of ash,
And swallowed the copper marshes,
Caressed with death all it passed.

Smashed in the bowels of the serpent,
Spilled on the silent shore,
Veins of hot jet grew shining,
With subtly poisoned jaws,
We yielded glazed and frozen,
Wrapped in the bitter pall,
While putrid leather tangles,
Grazed in the clinging squall.

The sickness was swallowed slowly,
Too weak to swim or fly,
We combed the withered grasses,
Scorched and blister dry,
Mourning our lifeless brothers,
Watching the brooding sky,
Lashed by the burning waters,
Waiting patiently to die.

Again I am confounded I can make them bigger
but you still cant read them. To post a shape
poem has become my mission.
I wonder if a different font would work?