better a heart made of glass reducible to sand than this regenerative muscle that forms and is torn apart and forms again waiting for the next hand in the chest trickster whispering the decision is the right one what is right is never easy and wanting more than anything than to feel nothing questioning every decision that led to here beginning with the first tears there is no balm in gilead there is no gilead
Tag: poem
theft (20220512)
the raven steals
the gift left
for the deer
a piece of midnight
making off with a ruby
convenience store (20220430)
the words are a different lexicon or maybe a foreign language an alien tongue licking alien lips and rolling over whatever passes for teeth on alpha centauri the words, oh the words, they squirm like flagella in an electric petri dish refusing to stay still refusing boundaries and definition if a dictionary could only speak and read my mind and tell me what i'm thinking
chicken little (20220429)
at my foot a small blue stone a piece of the spring sky
another tree conversation (20220428)
i want to tell the tree that in a couple of days men will come and cut them down this is not for anything the tree has done but as a precaution though they are too far to endanger the house they are girdled and too close to siblings too likely to take one of them down when next the wind changes direction i want to ask their permission but how can those words be said sincerely when the saws will run with or without it instead i apologize and promise to use every part to reclaim the sunshine he has stored
trees (20220427)
the trees speak
whether the wind blows
or remains still
but to hear
you must be silent
nature walk (20220426)
two mysterious deaths one attempted murder on the trail still the wind blows the salt scent of the ocean mixes with sweet blackberry blossoms
independence (20220425)
cemented to the cement
the slug would not budge
when i offered to move it
to safety
something to do with your hands (20220424)
the wood
is not a metaphor for anything
turn it over and check to see
is it straight knotted twisted cupped
the wood is not a metaphor
for anything
it's a building material
staple a red flag
to the longer boards
that poke out of the truck bed
over the tail gate
like a dog peeking
over the edge
at a stop light
the flag is not a metaphor
but is is lost at some point
during the short drive home
/consider going back to find it
since it's plastic
and probably crap for the environment
but swallow the guilt instead/
the wood will be used to build
a bench
the bench is a metaphor
or a simile
or a bench
meadow adventures (20220423)
you spin but then you refuse to spin i force you with my hands then seek advice when I return you turn and turn and turn
Words and Feathers 