"chirphead" poems
Chirphead Cedarson's grave
simple as it was
two damp branches
held together by
John C. Rhoades' own twine
was just one foot deep
Stiff in Nature's Valley box
asleep, I could have thought
Small feathered body
slammed against a Supreme frozen window
Reflection of endless landscapes
perfect for practicing new wings
deceived Chirphead
to demise
Woodsy first found him
melted snowflakes
coated the body like April dew
[for little birds, even unmoving, remind me
of spring]
Four of us [strangers most]
stood 'round this gaping grave
a wormhole to the underworld
giggling through made-up confessions
Chirp on playa'
I didn't know you well
What's a bird to do if He'll never be a gangsta'?
Four Sorry's who've never lived mortality
just addictions
depressions
o(re)pressions
leading to he'said-she-said's
never knew my Daddy's dead
Momma never tucked me into bed
Where's our heads?
Four Sorry's smiling over Chirphead's grave
Sean shoveled dark dirt
back into tiny tomb
First scoop over the granola cardboard
sounded like
one-thousand
baby birds
hitting glass
like bulletts
Felt funny to smile,then
But a breath of crisp mountain air
fog rolling over distant trees
thoughts of
fresh coffee
cracking fire
one-eyed snowmen
Gave my conscience a most comforting
ignorant
Hug
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC