my stylus on the keyboard
is...
a vulture venturing from q to m, scavenging the whole way
spelling not a kind word, leaving a cyber trail of blood
mockingbirds rarely roost; when they do, they typeset self loathing, for what it's worth
mostly mourning doves make nest there, pecking keys, punctuating words with their sad songs
deaf as I am, I still hear them,
see their blue tales
not yet has an owl visited with its mythic wisdom, but I know one day it will call my name...
not a minute too soon, amidst this fluttering digital madness
Sep 17, 2017
Sep 17, 2017 at 2:18 AM UTC
my stylus on the keyboard
is...
a vulture venturing from q to m, scavenging the whole way
spelling not a kind word, leaving a cyber trail of blood
mockingbirds rarely roost; when they do, they typeset self loathing, for what it's worth
mostly mourning doves make nest there, pecking keys, punctuating words with their sad songs
deaf as I am, I still hear them,
see their blue tales
not yet has an owl visited with its mythic wisdom, but I know one day it will call my name...
not a minute too soon, amidst this fluttering digital madness
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