I am a waxwing
feathered in snow
fat on juniper
with a wingspan 6 months long in either direction.
I sing the hollow bone electric
above the din of coyote
wolf pack on the hunt
... winter's whispers to bare branches.
there's no sun to sing to.
there never has been.
I will take flight, I will find it
6 months long
in either direction.

steppin in steppin out
both feet in the river
gotta make it down somehow
gonna sink or gonna swim down (2)
reach for moss if it's dry
pull myself out of it
take a better look around
gonna make it down somehow

I crave the short days.
trees with wide open arms.

drunk on townshend and happiness
I don't know if I will ever stop dancing

it hurts me to know that there are people who just seem to refuse beauty.  to chase it.  to stir passion, create something of value.  to chip away stones into sand if only to prove it can be done.  to be breaking waves.

clamorings, joyful
earth blossoming to the sun.
roots stretch sleepily.

I work with a guy a year younger than me
got two kids
and two jobs.
meanwhile all my money goes to
whitewater rafting and books
and ****
and paying for school.
one of them is two years old
the other four months
and he doesn't read.
probably doesn't go whitewater rafting
either.