Thursday, December 22, 2016


feathered wings
downy and doubting
lay folded
lay forgetful of flight
in the grey-skied day
seeking hallowed sounds
watching fallen leaves wind-bound
for yesterday's tomorrow.

the weak heartbeats are kindred
to half-tied strings
which are trying and not trying
to hold on
in the tune to a recurring song
of holding breath
of holding in a second wind
for some future moment.

the dance of dusty shadows
swaying with the dreams forgot
conversing in a voice scratching for sound
in the rhythm of movement grown still
all while asking:
where is the scale for "too late"?
& how long can we dwell
in the land of hesitation?

the heart is a haunted neighborhood
a ghost town
with everything in a state of last-minute
with everything too fair and too fine
like a snow flake that melts within seconds
like feathered wings
downy and doubting
laying folded & forgetful of flight.