Monday, June 15, 2009


(Pre-Script: The background music to pair with this post is"Blackbird," #15, so go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

these brittle crooked bones;
set them straight while I lay on your table
I scream, the ache,
in places still unstable
I'll stand and walk again when I am able

the small fly in my car

keeps bumping into windows

sees the freedom it can't get to and the light

so it flies from window to window

I do not want a fly in my car

I open the windows, it darts out barely,

back in again, then out, fast and sure this time, all the way out, I

close the windows so that even if it flew stupidly back, it would not get in


it would bump the glass from the other side and bounce back off

with no choice but to participate

in the vastness of it's own freedom.


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