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.

This entry was posted in 29.0: PASTORAL and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work:

Comments are closed.