Alone I sit
Watching the bluebirds
Peck, peck, pecking away
Singing, flying, swooping
No bluebirds come past this window
For now, I sit
And watch
Waiting for my bluebird to come
To throw its shriveled, beaten body against the window
Again
And again
To flap and flap and scream and thrash
While the other bluebirds sing
Sing their birdsong and soar
Feathers becoming transformative
In the golden light of the evening
They shimmer, colors mixing and blurring beneath the sun
My poor little bluebird
Pathetic, frail, and writhing
I close the curtain
And walk away
From the window.

Tell your muse to slap herself
buy a gun and cap yourself
buy a farm then buy the farm
buy the sheep that spins the yarn

take your words and shove them!
take your birds and love them!
put nothing else above them...

not even air

tell your side to ready for battle
by some fencing and by some cattle
buy a ranch and buy the farm
shave the sheep that spins the yarn

In these moments you were nothing but magic
-- gypsy dancing from suburb to suburb,
-- stripping yourself of your shoes,
-- feeling the earth directly beneath your feet;
Whispering secrets that kiss the soft-singing lips of the wind,
the elements of my earth

and a story I can only try to tell.

being alone is a funny thing

as i read i
can hear him reciting
bluebird and white-hot agony
boring everyone, even himself

but i’m listening
he makes it easier
to cope with the fact that
i am a Nobody

he wrote it down for me
and for that i am eternally grateful
i want to thank him, buy him a drink
or something

but then i look up
and i remember that he is
a dead man
and, unfortunately,

i am not

Blue bird,
every time I set you free
unfailingly, you fly back to me.
Perched out of reach
never out of mind
evermore locked in my gravity.

I know, blue bird,
the quandary of a heart
so willingly ensnared.
I remember the soothing drum
of its unquiet content.

I have longed for the keen
euphoric sting you bring
even as I banished you.
Without you
I am an empty nest.
I am so… heavy
with you.

Only I can let you go.
Only you can return to me.

Hey Mr Hank
An artist of highest rank

I felt bad
For my little blue bird

So I let her out
I couldn’t keep her quiet
anymore
Oh the times she humbly cried
Every time I ever tried

Her darkness receded
My guilt, for her light, we traded

As she leapt with her wings spread wide
I took a deep breath, turned to her and said

‘Fly through the winds and the bends
Soak in the countless nature’s trends
Sing till your throat feels dry
Test yourself how far can you fly’

‘There is not a cloud you can’t reach
All the silver linings they preach
of the failures and what they teach
That one more time, we all must try
Test yourself how far can you really fly’

‘It is not a victory waiting to be secured
and boast and claim all the miles you conquered
It is to challenge yourself all the way
to embrace the freedom everyday
And remember when I say
Test yourself how far can you fly
How far can you really fly away’

My heart hums melodies of distant birds...

Over yonder, below the big blue
A cardinal croons
A redbird misses you

Over yonder, below the big blue
A yellow bird cries
Warbling “woe is you”

Two birds dance
and skip, and trade in verse
While softly wishing, on the same wire they’d be perched

A dance to court,
Hopeful heartfelt flying nigh

But it’s a bluebird’s kiss
Whose cadence I wish were mine