Caw! Caw! Calls the crow on a crisp fall morning
Nevermore! Nevermore! Yells the ravens forewarning
The mist lifts into the air
As the sun begins to rise
The priests are sending up a prayer
Babies shouting out their cries
The dog down the street going bark! bark! bark!
The canary next door gives a little whistle
Out of the brush in a hurry ***** a swift lark
Away dashes a bunny, straight into the thistle
A squirrel chatters away
At a cat prowling close
Diving in, a daring jay
Caught by the cat, almost
Never was there a morning
So busy as this
To hear the birds all chirp and sing
To describe in a word…bliss

I don't know the best way to say this

the thing about people is that we are all our own galaxies and we tend to fall in love with the constellations that feel most like home.
but every backyard garden I plant always seems to die before it blooms

an old rocking chair in a stuffing yellow attic is what I use to call home
I can still remember the lullabies and the bunnies on the wall
home left me the day fire lined the walls
swallowing the bunnies and trapping me whole
I couldn't get out
I couldn't get out
my bed was the ocean
and I was the tsunami
swallowing your home
and I swallowed that fear
and now the ghosts whisper my name
as they pull the juniper berries off their bush and lay them under your pillow
this is so you will have believed that you were the one to **** sleep
you'll dream of holding a knife dripping with sand
and you'll never feel home again

It's odd to be a peon.
To sit in a grey Office.
Blue tucked in button up.
Red tie.
My opinion is irrelevant.
It's hard, it's rough.
It's not safe.
I am disposable.
All face to face is false.
My red tie doesn't help me.
It only stands me up.
I look left and find a man
both dressed and sitting down.
Whiskers ***** from his chin.
Teeth behind them smile.
A bit lip, a burnt tongue.
From the coffee on his desk.
He doesn't seem to have a soul left.
This cubicle has leeched it away.
I too have bit lip and burnt tongue.
From coffee on my desk.
I too am dressed and sitting down.
Am I doomed to a similar fate?
I wear the costume, blue shirt, grey slacks.
I look like I fit in.
But I add a flair to my uniform.
White and pink bunny ears.
Not too silly
Just enough.
My foot thumps the ground at excitement for my call.
My nose twitches at the smell of strangers as they pass.
I may not nibble carrots or hop around grass.
But I'm the call center bunny.
I'd much rather be different.
It feels wrong to fit in after so many years of being different.
I need to be looked at, laughed at, loved.
I can't be cookie cutter.
But I can cut cookies and hand them out.
Being ignored just felt so wrong.
If i do this right. They'll remember me.

We returned from our trip
to our rabbit's sad loss

A Volkswagen sinks in tainted ink
The purple bunny’s been painted pink
The hare is teetering on the brink
Of broken limelight square.

He rings the thing; it starts to sing
A duckling, suckling ****, goes ping!
A nettle stings the bunny’s wing;
The duckling gets no share.

A shard apart that scarred the heart
Ripped out the one who passed the start
And darting past her cart, remarked
Upon her vacant stare.

A stare so vast that sticks and lasts;
She’s passed the post, she’s missed the mast,
What matters most: what’s passed is past,
Surrendered into air.

hand in hand and two bright lights
moving through the calm night
leaves lit by the moon
hoping to find water soon
an eerie calm
loosely clasped palms
a sudden hesitation
and running imaginations
whispering with you
over a noise or two
a light disappeared
slight unacknowledged fear
****** rising
emotions heightening
a disturbance in the leaves
a tighter hold, a startled scream
you called my name
two large ears hopped away
laughter ensued
steps continued
the destination seen piece by piece
place to rest and regain peace
a rushing water found
feet slowly moving with arms around
to an unheard beat
water and rock beneath our feet
under the flecks of stars through trees
perfect night with you next to me

The creature is limp in my hands.
As I raise it to my mouth
And sink my teeth into its skull,
I can feel it go to pieces

I unhinge my jaw
And devour its mangled body,
Savoring every ravenous bite of this rabbit
That I got in my Easter basket

Bunnies are sweet
and bunnies are gentle
The more time with them
The less we feel mental.