Curious Brown Thrasher songbird
How I long for your window to the
world , traveling Hill country with wings unfurled , skipping from hardwood to evergreen with songs of splendid countryside scenes

Trapped , semi-tamed ,
players on the grid forced from
point A to B
Confined to insulated stria , racing to their
destinations , crashing into transformers , divided ,
fed to culled , starving machines* ...

Guitar buried in effects
Women mired in makeup
Men wrapped in ego
Woodwork dripping with shellac
Seafood dipped in breading
Carpet drowning in dust
The baptized cleansed in water
The son copying the father
A publican garnering trust
A 62' John Deere seized with rust
The dead becoming dust
A poker hand royal flush
An over and under combination
A gods abomination
Traipsing the woodline for a spell
A five o'clock trip from hell* ...

Red wasp stopped by the window
Man stopped by the world ,
only the surface of said world he truly
knows , running from fire , calmed by rainbows ,
on one knee praising mountains , before oceans
declaring them to be gods , amused with frogs ,
chaining dogs , slaughtering cattle , turning his
brethren into pawns
Explorers smashed in windshields
Warring , painful sequels
Always on the surface of the window
Seeking more* ...

Cobwebs collected in
four corners , tins reflecting
sunshine along the wooden borders ,
a cash register from the fifties
was ironically up for sale , a mirror
from the sixties , gold leaf shot glasses
glimmered , mason jars and fondue sets ,
a tea service , Corningware plates , thimbles ,
candelabras and goose quill pens shimmered
A mannequin with costume jewelry ,
old Army outfits , icepicks , bread pans and shaving kits
The air was stale , like grandmothers house ,
Several traps within eyeshot in hopes of a mouse ,
The days lunch stood open with late morning coffee
perusing a giant ceiling fan overhead , old time
rockers and brass bed sets
A clerk with bifocals and white apron nursing a wood
pipe with black cherry tobacco ,
A shelf with horehound , licorice and rock candy ,
guitar strings , sewing needles and 'medicinal' blackberry brandy* ..

Rain colder than the word no
Into wind revealed painful secrets I go
Across sheets of lightning induced anxiety ,
through 'Downdays' filled with rumbling thunder
insecurity and finality* ...

A quarter till two , a distant siren wails ,
up from the bushes a peeping tom bails
A hushed night interrupted -
by a lone owl ,
Tonight a thief is on the prowl
Silence suddenly crushed by screaming air brakes ,
the thunder hides the sound of a rock through a
window pane , the cries of the homes occupants
are in vain , the Southern railway's aided and abetted burglary once again  
Bloodhounds bray till morning light ,
not a trail in sight ,
The quarry has disappeared once again ,
rode the two a.m. to Montgomery like the
howling wind* ...