The bird barks.
We do not encourage violence here,
then again we do not advocate a lot of things.
The bird barks.
We do. Not so secretly in love,
with our first language.
The bird barks.
You and die. You and I.
The hell difference does it make.
The bird barks.
The doctor will see you now.
You and I and they, un-muzzled. Linked elbows & a skip in our step.
The bird barks.
original works of parts
Light Sculpture
Because we all know
what glitters may be not vibrant. May shine without soul.
May be easy to grasp and even easier to hole away
and whisper secrets to
on the off chance that
another shovel spade will go PING down the line and smash it apart.
The little secrets up again to the wind.
What glitters may not be vibrant. May shine without soul,
we all know.
May be difficult to grasp and more difficult still to hole away,
but will hold secrets when whispered to
on the off chance that
another finger tip will touch the lithic heap and fingers splay against
sun roasted surface.
The little secrets burning through,
unbreakable in the breeze that wicks sweat.
Because we all know:
What glitters may not be vibrant. May have no soul.
May be too large to fit in the palms of hands or hide
in a jacket pocket
on the off chance
the body is found.
The little secrets up again to the wind
for no one to know.
What glitters be not vibrant. Whisper gifted soul.
what glitters may be not vibrant. May shine without soul.
May be easy to grasp and even easier to hole away
and whisper secrets to
on the off chance that
another shovel spade will go PING down the line and smash it apart.
The little secrets up again to the wind.
What glitters may not be vibrant. May shine without soul,
we all know.
May be difficult to grasp and more difficult still to hole away,
but will hold secrets when whispered to
on the off chance that
another finger tip will touch the lithic heap and fingers splay against
sun roasted surface.
The little secrets burning through,
unbreakable in the breeze that wicks sweat.
Because we all know:
What glitters may not be vibrant. May have no soul.
May be too large to fit in the palms of hands or hide
in a jacket pocket
on the off chance
the body is found.
The little secrets up again to the wind
for no one to know.
What glitters be not vibrant. Whisper gifted soul.
Cat Tails Over the Grating Near the Willows
I don't write notes in the backwoods of books, but
my tongue is small,
good for eating
and thick
easy to find and thoroughly present between
seams where a solid weld
can make or break a night.
For kissing she is
clumsy and deaf and
signing 120 words per minute
each pair a couplet
each couplet a
word in the mother tongue
for one thing many ways seen shade:
where have hue been.
twining fingers to palm
cutting her eyes for you
teeth clinking little
sea kings, along their ride, beseeching
"come inside."s
120 separate ways
per minute.
my tongue is small,
good for eating
and thick
easy to find and thoroughly present between
seams where a solid weld
can make or break a night.
For kissing she is
clumsy and deaf and
signing 120 words per minute
each pair a couplet
each couplet a
word in the mother tongue
for one thing many ways seen shade:
where have hue been.
twining fingers to palm
cutting her eyes for you
teeth clinking little
sea kings, along their ride, beseeching
"come inside."s
120 separate ways
per minute.
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