II

By | 3 December 2008

each day I am bird glad.

hassling the sky
as it flies
straight
and believing my
enemies colour
blind.

I am whistling and hooting
the air into
moulded proper shapes

(even now.)

one startled day
I will inhabit
that kind place
as secure and comfort
able as a frenzied can
opy of
soft
falling
songs
in delicate passage.

each invisible day,
(then,)
I will be sure
of my flight,
endless ly
twitter about some may be
destinations.

each
new
bird
day,

my community of
hollow bones
will finally, gladly,
suffice.

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