Sprout your wings
They’re a sky,
A guise that
Holds you down.
(Words are only weighed and written
To carry our attention,
Else like the paper
We would fly away.)
Some Hummingbird
Humming its say;
All the poetry is up for grabs,
Only a translation from
Thin air to modern day.
And soon the condolences to
the skies
Will stop,
And as there is none for me,
Soon there will be no hum for the wind.
As if to simply
Acknowledge our presence
I flew by.
Looking through the window,
I saw him lying there
In his coffin.
Dressed to impress
Royal fools and vermin
In disguise.
We are scavengers
Picketing at dead religion,
Eating what is left -
We are left.
Niche-nest negated,
I will make a nest
Of my heart.
I will steal the spider's web
Whose absence is dismissed
Whose silence is understood
Whose presence is disagreeable.
And one day birds will fly
And lay their eggs in yours.
These hummers will fly blindly and without direction,
And though they'll find another nest,
Save the nest that is
This poem.
