She was a little bluebird
Among the monkeys in a tree.
She sang among the monkeys
Just as proud as she could be.

And then one day the monkeys said,
"Little bluebird fly away."
Our soul is full of sweet, sweet songs
You sang of every day.

We are better monkeys now
Than we ever were before
So take flight unto the heavens
And sing forever more.

So the bluebird flew away
And sang to others she had met.
And although she sang as proudly,
Her monkeys, she could not forget.

The bluebird loved her friendly monkeys
And she knew one day she would
Return to sing another song
To her monkeys if she could.

Once upon a monkey
In a tree so high
Lived a little baby blue bird
As blue as the sky.

The monkey oh so limber
And the bluebird  oh so blue
Lived together nicely
In a tree made for two.

So if you ever see a bluebird
Perched upon a monkey's shoulder
Just know it's only temporary
Until bluebird's a little older.

It must be two in the morning.
it's cold. Dark. The bleeding is relentless.
My fault.
I didn't ask for any of this
but in the end it is my fault alone.

I try to breathe.
how?
I can't.
it feels like
liquid nitrogen.
not oxygen.
I need air.
can't breathe.
chest collapsing.

I wake up.

two ten.

still dark out.

got a text
at ten something
from my Bluebird of Peace.
a list of inappropriate but still humorous jokes.

some are cringey,
but I still laugh or smile.
and so guilt and shame are washed from my mind,
as I debate running
to the bathroom
to wash the cold sweat off
that has drenched my skin
and clothes.

I keep smelling iron
though I know it isn't there.

the things I have seen
and the things I have lost
like to haunt me.

I would like to be a ghost.
to haunt them
in return.

instead I breathe in.
I breathe out.

I change clothes,
stripping down entirely to put on shorts and a t-shirt.
I put on his hoodie.
Wait for warmth.
Hold my old stuffed lion.

send my Bluebird
a text.

I need some type of noise,
but all I hear is snoring
and the dripping of a faucet.

I am glad
for instances like these
that I do not
live alone.

at least this time
i didn't cry myself awake.

one day
it will be different.

"That part of us greater than the sum of our parts cannot begin and cannot end, and so it cannot fail."

Sialia, O Sialia,
how I yearn to hear from thee,
If silence be golden,
how rich hath thou made me?

I drove you home thinking how about how much I did not want the night to end,
It was quiet, save for the ambient noise as we drove through the freeway,
I glanced over at you, your face, your thoughts,
a  mystery.
You said to me “Do you ever just listen to the silence?”
and then suddenly it was as if I was in a special place,
a special place I only knew of,
a secret chamber I retreat to,
and yet you so effortlessly walked into it,
perhaps you already knew of this place,
perhaps you already knew of the silence,
perhaps you had been there far before I had,
these thoughts raced through my  head,
I replied to you after a few seconds of reflection,
“yes, I do listen to the silence”

I hum dark poetry,
As I walk down the street,
My soul boiling up in my throat,
As it rattles around,
Stretching to escape.

There's a bluebird in my heart
too,

but unlike
yours

I like to let mine out
from time to time,

I let him spread his wings
I let him sing

his songs to me
& to the world,

My bartenders like him,
he's how I've gotten most
of the ****** into my bed

and he doesn't mind the smoke,
everyone needs a drag
from time to time,

He's the one
who prefers Jameson
and told my tongue
to not drink
much else,

I don't hide him,

But I'm not mad
that you hid yours away

I'm glad you did
because as much as you
inspire me and make me
want to share my songs

with the world,

I'm glad I'm not as angry
as you made yourself out
to be,

I get it, the image
is everything about
what seperates the men
from the boys,

and at this point I think
I'm all grown up
and we're stuck together
with the same fate,

So I let my bluebird sing
Bukowski,
because more than anything

your songs taught me

how to ****
what the world thinks.

And thank you for lying
to me

You old, drunk *******,

Because you let your bluebird
fly, you know it

and may the gods bless you
for not even trying.

I love you
*******.

Just one question,
Are you crying now?

In the quiet cold wind
The blue bird stirs
It flutters its wings
Among pines and burrs

The sting of the night
Is fresh on the air
The absence of light
The death of a prayer

The blue bird flutters
Its eyes the only light
Silently it mutters
Feathers caught in flight

Its blue blur beckons
Briskly bustling away
Eyes set on the heavens
Flying for the break of day

I last rode this road in Summer
When the light was as now;
Long, flat and mellow
But by the hour not the season

The trees back then still wore clothes
Green, perhaps liver-spotted with yellow
Now I watch them tangle their naked arms
And the world turns its face away in shame,
Longing for its chastised summer

The wheat field is grey scrub
An old bristling beard
And my bike tyres trace its edge
Like fingers on the jaw of our grandfather

And the watercolour wind
Rinses my knuckle bones
And then bites them open
They don’t bother to bleed
They’ve been chewed too many times

As the clouds wash in,
Black with frostbite,
I bite my winter scarf
And sing to it of bluebirds

weep not in the willows my child
the summer day calls you to play
the mothers songs calls you to smile once more
lifts your heart from this sullen mood
laugh once more
summer has come

chase dragonflies in the thrush's nest
let the words dance your tongue
quick now and high you leap to catch firefly
for summer grass has such a sweet scent when cut
blends the heart with wondrous dreams
faster fun with bright smiles

quick now my child
race your shadow's footsteps along the path
in the summer wood
watch the dandelions spread wings on the wind
watch the sunlight catch the sky afire
so much wonder to be found
listen now for mothers song
her voice will call you from your sleeping
to run laughing in the tall grass
chase the bluebird
walk with the sun through the puddles
quick now my child
love the world before you grow too old