Wednesday, February 22, 2012

My own angry birds

Fingers like laquer spindles tap
on the murky, wooden bench
of my life consumed of penalty.

Patterns of moldy bread and butter
spread before me in flatlines on
the poorest, ochre-colored floorboards.

Melody turned dirge and driftwood
pierce the cottage of my slumber,
waking me with a gentle nod and dagger.

Judge me not, for there is no crime
and no reason for commutation
here in the pastime of envy and ego.

Frame me like a strangled Montague
so that language and reason meander
but never collide on time.

Leave me here, not knowing or caring
where I am or what where means or
why solemn moments stream and
why angry birds scream.




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