There’s a bird with one wing
that still flies,
but only in circles
and so it sings many songs
where the birds with two wings
never bothered to sing more than one

There’s an old lady
with curled fingernails
and proud wrinkles on her face.
She has worn a vinyl record
and a bird’s nest
atop of her head, for all of her good life.
The nest brings the music of the birds
the vinyl gives her shade from the sun.
She’s never thrown that vinyl on the record player
She doesn’t need to,
And that’s not what it’s for.
And as the birds sing
Dust comes off  
of the dancing shoes
she wore
when she fell in love with it all.

I knew a boy
who wanted the whole world.
And he almost had it.
He wrapped his arms around it all
and just as it was about to finally be his
he realized
he had no place to put it,
except for exactly where it already is.
So he let it be,
exactly where it is.
He painted it with evergreen eyes.
And as he smiled at it,
it smiled back.

I’m learning
that there is no such thing as a ****
and that the space
in which we fall
is precious.
I’ve dismounted
my three legged horse.
I’ve cast aside my sword.
I made a coffee table out of my shield.
I’m learning how to untie my shoes.
I’ve learned that
when we love,
a tiny man
at the center of the earth
puts another quarter into the machine
and the world
continues
to spin.

It is the elephant
before it knew the big lights
and roaring crowds
of blind mice
at the circus.
It isn't the black ink tattoo
that you left on my heart.
It is the only bullet
I almost didn’t catch in my teeth.
It’s not you.
It was you.
The bus sized trumpet
that screamed sugarcane rain
through the soul in my spine.
Life sings to us
in tongues
we are no longer fluent in.
Sometimes I think
the only way to step the stones
is to burn between them,
burn like an ant
under a magnifying glass.
If you ever have the chance
to ask a burning man if he's bored,
ask him.