I have beheld
the simpleminded
lark, who sings
sustained
until the very moment
he crumples against
the glass--
I have beheld
the fruitlessness
of his path.
I see now that
the sparrow is
propelled, and what
propels her:
a heedlessness
an artlessness
behind her.
I have held
the hand of a man
in tears and
pet his head.
I have walked in-
to churches one way
and expected to come out
another: naivety.
I have come
to understand why
few ever find
the tunnel's exit.
Behold: one smoker,
smoking; one sad
girl with an older
man; one blind
woman, walking;
one foolish bird
in flight
towards a window.