A hopeful romantic whistles
His two note call
Outside my window,
Down toward the open pond
Flaunting winter-killed carp.

A raucous crow caws
Derision in black and naked trees
Though in the stillness
And the damp of spring,
His mindless clamor
Doesn't mean a thing.

The chickadee knows only life,
Anticipates the nest to come,
Sings a two-toned song
And beckons to his mate,
For which, libidinous, he
The air with amor fills.

Ten black crows
in a red-budded
cottonwood tree
basking in the eerie
glow of the waning sun
bruised, livid sky
weighted air
waves shush, shush
on the receding tide
serenity reigns
but I can feel it
hovering offshore
a curled fist
wound tight
ready to strike

The bane of intelligence
curses those born with it.
I've become committed
to refining my ignorance.
Honing my bliss to a keen
edge that I press to my forearm.
The genocide of my brain cells
has been ongoing for years,
and I've embraced my fears,
becoming too frightened
of change to ever try.
The ***** cleanses my mind,
wiping it smooth.
I just stay inside.
I just stay inside,
figuring out
how to smile.

I will always be the slippery *****
               they warn you not to go down
         I am the clutter in your closet
                           they ask you to clean out
                Forever the reason you look
                              both ways before crossing

They say I am not right for you
         But I want to be your happiness
              The world sees me rotten
                         I wish for you to help me
                  Paint the world with color
                        So we may prove them wrong