Monday, April 02, 2012

What You Know

just rise

after birdsong.

before dayclean

open the door.

startle the flock

witness avian empty boned,

brown feathered transcendence

and hope this ritual

coaxes words

to mimic weightlessness.

keen lung chilling

inhalation crisp

as hand-picked

apples. throat

consonants. swallow

verbs squishy

slick as mangos

never out of season.

write the garden, for pain,

childhood, in protest

memory, loves, the moment, jailed,

cliche, death, touche and brain cells

alive. saunter lace night gowned

onto the grassy page. revel

in wrens seizing the air

every day. composed. what you know

ends up as so much shit on your head.

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