Don't start with birds.
Instead, everything happened
in or around time. There are
more and more vague ways to say
birds did wake me up at dawn. Every bird
is also an ending.
I wanted so much for a thing to be about
something other than transformation.
Two stone angels on a mountain
looked up and then stayed that way for centuries.
It was the year of power tools.
I walked around everywhere as if my head
was wrapped in a towel. I listened
only to people who wore sandals. Death
skipped me again. Leaves were the same
as always: they went away, they came back.
Freakin' leaves. "Oooh, look at me, I'm all about chlorophyll!"
ReplyDeleteWhat you just wrote needs to go into a poem somehow.
ReplyDelete