Birdsong

multi_mockingbird

 

“All life is a foreign country”

–Jack Kerouac

 

All my life my tongue

could not curl about

the words spoken here—

my teeth cut my cheek

as I stumbled over

simple words, simple ideas.

I was silenced in simple

misunderstandings, in fear

of the wrong word spoken

too loudly, too softly,

or not at all.

I wish I were

a mockingbird able

to flit between the leaves

singing the song of others;

to speak earnestly around

the mundane bits of life

we share, like now, or mimic

an old man’s nod of greeting,

or children’s laughter outside

this window; or to simply cross

over the border to a home.

 

(September 1, 2018)

solve for X

eyeem-49219149

 

you present as a variable

an x or a y

an unknown desire

 

to provide an outcome

for a question

I did not know to ask

 

each only opens one door

to slip down the hall and out

is to dance the wet grass alone

 

or sit near the window and sigh

as one grey day blurs into tomorrow

with your answer left unresolved

 

I do not know where to go

within the variables of my heart

 

 

(February 11, 2018)

 

 

 

 

the need to be alone

Each moment bears in its fragility
the omnipresent weight of all my wounds,
as if they were only feathers adrift
after a sole shotgun blast silences
the crisp air in a sudden gasp of fear.
Desire for silence propels me to gloom,
for few will tolerate such dark despair.
They wander off embarrassed to intrude
further than any wish to be allowed,
leaving me far from any distant crowd.
Solitude allows the mind to wander
away from life’s niggling inconsequence
and the dark voice’s articulate doubts;
allows the rage and fear to fall away,
leaving love like light to a new day’s dawn.
(August 29, 2015)