Their feathers surrounded by the many trees and the many houses that sit down below.
They don't know the meaning of cages, why should they.
The majority of them that are fortunate,
The thoughts that make us feel in-etiquette.
Self doubt,
The reason their chrup's reign the highest.
The majority that are fortunate.
Rejoicing in the moment presented as now.
Repenting with each flap of their wings.
They are free.
Sitting on top of cable wires and cable poles.
Warming their feet.
Taking the many offers the world presents to them as the things we overlook.
A small reminder that silence is necessary

you punch above your weight
but you dangle like tinsel from the lash of an evergreen eye.
you're smart enough to rough it
in the brambles of your entropy. but your saving grace, a lie -
it permeates an absolute that never bargains
as you scale the wall of coordinates to a distant shore
where a far cry counts for something; but the irony
is lethal.

you're jumping the broomstick with a ghost
and that will haunt you; when you lose the ring.
and that will be the day that the rain wept for thee
but strangely enough, not for what
you think.

blurry image, out of focus
closing in on hopeless notice
broken glow, prone to coldness
holding on to low the closest

lambent lacking, saddened blackness
lasting facts of tragic practice
shattered glass, facet blasted
passing granted hands the fastest

Five-thirty a.m., and I step
outside for the newspaper,

not four feet away
a raccoon sits like

a paunchy Buddha,
smiling as only

liars and sick
animals can.

I toss a half-eaten
bacon between  its  legs,

Pick up the paper,
back away.

I wonder, sometimes, how the world can have so many secrets.

Perhaps, I would be happier if I was ignorant. If you, and everyone else, did not come, whispering into my ear...
           fears, lies, the wrongs of the past, your deepest insecurities

Perhaps it is my face that makes you - all of you - trust me.

Or perhaps it is the way I blend easily in the background, the way I speak up only rarely.

I know enough secrets for a life time; plenty enough to drown in.
Some of them, granted, learned from behind a door, listening, but
most freely given.

You say you can trust me, that's nice.
'Fact, it's enough to make me smile.

I think I'll still keep the secrets to myself, though, even if I return the sentiment. And yeah, I do.

Sometimes, see, it's less of a burden not to know, than to see everything so clearly, and be so utterly helpless...

i'll still keep all the secrets, though, don't you worry - - exhausted of it though I maybe, i still know how to keep my mouth shut,  *how to help out when i can...

old friends gather
tied together
by lines of
silver silk
memory

threaded from
heart to heart
embedded in thought
and action

actor trained
like the rhythm
of drumming fingers
on raked stage

toungue twisted greetings
bring saltwater to eyes
searching for the mentor

a congregation of etudes
belies, the sadness,
laughter hides the absence

shared memory,
memories shared
bring life into focus

years pass by
but still, the silk threads
play the heartstrings
and still we raise our
eyes in ritual goodbyes

and hug each other closer
til the next gathering
old friends remembering
the good times