☆ last bird ☆

See the dust collecting like fog

Brushed up from cars on roads

Thick and white and draped

Weighing down roofs, bed covers and necks

Morning and night

Listen

Can you hear any birds?

I heard the cry of one

In the blue of night

And I heard 

It was the last of its kind

Crying out a melodic wish

A lonesome call

But no one was left

Who could sing that song

endless

In its hands

At strange times

The world holds me soft

If i am brave enough 

To take the leap

To peek out between the dusty blinds

Slip on shoes and look to the world

The air is soft and raw 

Like a little mountain stream

As the seeds start sprouting again

I want the white petals

Of snowbells 

In backyard hills

And grass to grow and beetles to crawl

I am just one of many beings

In the cut out blue shade 

Of summer and spring

I am of this world

And in it very much

Feel the grass and the rocks and the miles

Stretch and reach

Out and out trough the valleys

And plains and forests and waters

Covering ground with life  

Watch the buildings and lakes and rivers and streets melt into the stars

Pulsating out and out

Into the deep

The miles and rocks and specks of dust

Stretch and reach 

Into the millions of suns

I am just one of many things and beings

A little stream

And it is raw air in my lungs

And birds singing in branches

And the sun on roofs and trees

To be able to feel

The world is endless

Life covers

Life is endless 

So if i get another chance 

I hope to be a flower

A lily on a hill

I hope to live where I can feel

The mountain dip into the ocean

And to see the wind and sun reach

◇☆ something is missing ☆◇

How can you 

know who you are

with so many contradictions

bloodshed and roses

blooming inside of you

Can you see the color of your hands?

pink and raw 

like a heart (closed)

You are still many things

that have much to live

but something is missing

something is missing 

You do not know 

where to look

For a second

a split second

the sun shone trough crystals in windows

the fruit was ripe 

and the forest buzzing

For a split second

you had it

something so precious and fragile

like a small creature

kitten or duckling

in your palm

your hands shaking

On the tip of your finger

you held a droplet of water

a flower petal

the strands of a star 

Something is missing

Something is missing 

wildflowers

I thought there would be

wildflowers in the valley

Yellow and white

dipped into the green

But the crisp crystalized air 

told me they had fallen

I thought there would be moss and 

pine needles and trees and dirt trails

But the moss is melting

The roots that were ment to hug 

the dirt and rot 

and bleed into new seeds and 

new springings are pulled 

Metal cuts dirt

I thought there would be pools of 

blue water

In the sea nearby

and summer shells and kelp

and small hermitcrabs and silver fish

swimming happily

But the pools and basins 

and bodies of water

look stale, black and empty

Well, i thought 

i thought

this is not my home

I did not

Build this home

It is not mine

For i moved in

I just stayed 

And thought thought thought

I could have a home

But it is not

I just thought

I could finally 

Have a home

go where the culture is

Go where the culture is

Where it multiplies

Strangels you

Chokes you alive

Where all that fills is food and wine

And the arts and wonder and connection

Are cleaved and tinted

Into the neon light

And the houses reaching skyhigh

Shout at you

To stop being all that

To fold into the wonderful life

Out out out

Becoming processed and serialized

purely thin air

I sometimes feel or fear 

my poems are purely thin air

never to caress or care

or feed any part of anything anywhere

so nothing

ever comes out of it

Fear there are limits to where the pen hits the soul

pinching ink into bones

i dont know where to belong

Sometimes i am afraid

the visual realm

is stronger than my belt of words

my river of glow

that i push to flow

out of my chest and hopefully into yours

My ideas are getting sore

and red and less frequent 

am i beginning to melt

melt away from myself

and into the corners of numb relief?

Into a stream

a being without breath or food or sleep

And its so hard 

to do to do to be