Desire is a small bird in your palm

You want to pet it, but you also want to crush it

You are the adult who wants to *** in the swimming pool
Who wants to eat the whole cake
Who never wants to wake up from a dream about flying

Desire is a small bird with the sharpest of beaks and claws

It's telling you you'll never be innocent
You'll never get over it
You'll want everything too fiercly
And you're not fooling anyone

Desire is a bird in your palm, who dares you

To crush it
To stuff it in the back of the closet
To bury it in the yard
It dares you to say that
You do not contain desire
It dares you to do something about it
Sharp of beak and soft of feather
Whisper-sings coercion until you
Are nothing but a conduit for sensation

Desire is a small bird in your palm
That will not fly away
And if you strangle it between your fingers
You will find that
Desire is not a small bird in your palm
It is a haggard vulture in your chest.

Our love has
become
wet wood
all sizzle without fire
smoke without heat
A cold day's house
without
warmth

Another round of paper
Quick flames and
sparks
Heading no where
except to
silent
dead
ashes

The one last sizzle
of
wet wood.

The world had magic, once
But we drove it out
With our hate and our sorrow
And our pollution
And our new age machines
With our war and our strife
And our forgetting
Most of all, the forgetting

We forgot the hum of the earth
And the song of the wind
We forgot the language of trees
And the comfort of soil
We forgot to be kind to the world
And that drove out the magic
That kept us whole, and good

We are left now with rubble
And a grey, polluted sky
The trees do not whisper to us
Since we started cutting them down
The earth doesn't hum
With our oil swords plunged deep

We have forgotten our roots
And they, have so, forgotten us.