Cardinal Red

Cardinal Red


One bird on a branch
He sings to hear his own voice
when an echo returned is heard
he is shy and says "that can't be for me, i am just a lark"
my measure is that by which spoons carry sugar
and notes hang like moisture.

One bird sits on a branch
She flies with grace, her feathers preened.
When it is color she sees
she says "I can't believe my eyes, winged as such i deserve not this sight" my worth is measured by my flight. Cageless but tethered, too bright to not be seen.

Two Birds rest, their heads tucked under wing.
Tones and sights matter not, they gauge each other
on warmth and nature's gifts.
When they call to each other it is harmony.
They say to each other "here i am , your mate"
You need only whisper and i will hear, need only hunger and i will feed. When there is heat, in me shade, when there is fear in me peace.

Distant Trains

Fifty feet of sand a beach out stretched
a landscape of tiny mirrors
the beauty surfacial
who is the fairest one of all
a thief, a beggar, a queen, a fool
your best guess is the narcissist with a limp
and the faint odor of candytuft.

a wish for obsolescence.

I breathe because i forget that i want to sing
who dares lift their arms towards the heavens and
speak like they know the deep.
you impress n o o n e b u t y o u r s e l f

a mere taxidermy of my former self
filled with the baubles of contempt and
the confetti of failure.
so let us celebrate the Day of the Dead
the noose is in place.
the children need to learn what to do
when confronted with a corpse
so give them sticks and blindfolds
blood and candy are one and the same.

so look away, no matter where you look you
see yourself in gauze and rubies
a spiders kill that dangles in the
display window.

so listen for the rumble of the distant train
know i hear it also
the sound carries only for so long
all songs must end.

Windows

Stitched together quilted and sparse
a loose collective of sequels
a long strings of losses
a fading format
snapshots

I wait for the disco automatic
a quarter in the slot
a selection made
a weak output
static

a sum not equal to the parts
heel toe heel toe
six quick skips and dagger stares
there is a tiger in the shag rug
he knows you are weak
he can smell the designer cologne
and empathy.

i have made a colossus
though hollow and fragile
you can see it from the rooftop
it's shadow falls on only me
it is warmer in the shade
and there in no need for sunblock

waltzing alone but never lonely
a solid empty built from the remains
of those things one loves and keeps
the scratch that heals into runes
i sing the ancient language and
keep my enemy close enough
to look out through his windows.