Chirphead Cedarson's grave
    simple as it was
        two damp branches
        held together by
        John C. Rhoades' own twine
was just one foot deep

Stiff in Nature's Valley box
    asleep, I could have thought
Small feathered body
    slammed against a Supreme frozen window
Reflection of endless landscapes
          perfect for practicing new wings
    deceived Chirphead
    to demise

Woodsy first found him
    melted snowflakes
    coated the body like April dew
                                                 [for little birds, even unmoving, remind me
                                            of spring]

Four of us [strangers most]
    stood 'round this gaping grave
                                         a wormhole to the underworld
    giggling through made-up confessions
        Chirp on playa'
        I didn't know you well
        What's a bird to do if He'll never be a gangsta'?
Four Sorry's who've never lived mortality
    just addictions
    depressions
    o(re)pressions
        leading to he'said-she-said's
        never knew my Daddy's dead
        Momma never tucked me into bed

Where's our heads?
Four Sorry's smiling over Chirphead's grave


Sean shoveled dark dirt
    back into tiny tomb
First scoop over the granola cardboard
        sounded like
        one-thousand
        baby birds
        hitting glass
        like bulletts

Felt funny to smile,then

But a breath of crisp mountain air
    fog rolling over distant trees
    thoughts of
        fresh coffee
        cracking fire
        one-eyed snowmen
Gave my conscience a most comforting
    ignorant
    Hug