and here I sit, at the bottleneck.
a postdoctoral headlock squelched
in an economic ice age.
what idiosyncratic feathers
will we evolve to make stolid
careers ****?
is it possible these colorful
plumage have unintended
consequences of flight?
early real down
or Icarus waxed illusion?
a poem fished out from one of my past streams! is it already 5 years?!