A squeak in the night
the molasses sky muting the silver stars
As they fell
one
by
one
onto the hard packed earth where we lay
unspoken words smarting in the darkness
lips flushed red with promises broken
and lies spread as thin as lip balm.
Their ungainly flight to escape
became a sharp distraction to my muddled emotions as they woke
one
by
one
to the smothered chirps of the baby birds.
Alone and abandoned
they mirrored my cries for help
and gently with hands accustomed to flesh not feathers
We gathered the small bodies in cacoons of towel.
A small barrier from the stalking squirrel
prowling the midnight branches.
Small ******* fluttering in panic
We soothed
and spoke in soft utterances
in contrast with our wheeling minds
and the rescue of three little lives
cleared the garbled words we choked on
until we could meet
clear gaze
clear hearts.
The soft whisper of the wind
carried away our pain.
And as the baby birds pleas faded to contented humming
our bodies settled into peace
and our minds into laughter
and love was once again
a precious gift

Once upon a time
A boy ate a great big steak
He choked and then died.

That was the biggest
Miss steak he has ever made
Such a tragic end.

Silver lining though,
At least his soda was free,
Those are expensive.

Where you stand, dig deep and pry.
For down there is the well.
Ignore the obscurantists cry:
"Down there is only Hell!"

The night sky spits crystalized drops of clarity.
I stand with eyes painted black
My lips painted red
And ponder my reality.
Unloaded amps, keyboards, guitars take up more space
Then my heart can create room for
Erratic beats and flailing feet explode my sense of peace
and I'm caught in the harsh whipping of the vibrating music
played too loud to hold any resonance
its only purpose to push the sweat to dancers skin.
This music which I normally love so much
Falls flat to ears accustomed to the screams of suffocating ideals
and I forget why I am here.
I forget why these arms love his with a tired affection
that withstands his sublimations and holds his faults in a place where everything he creates is perfect.
We are not perfect.
This rain falls in thin sheets
intermingling with tears that suddenly appear on my flushed cheeks
and I taste salt.
Throughout the infinities trapped in teenage years I find
Its taste a fading memory
a paling reminder to how submissive I have become
and before I can remember exactly where it's from
Its gone and I am left with arms full of his music gear
and a heart too full to hold with only two hands.
He calls back to see if I need help
and I say no
because what are you going to say when you are shattering and do not know why.