Wednesday January 15, 2020
From a quote by the Buddha
They are noble, those long legged wide shouldered birds of prey.
They shake their feathers at the insolence of the cartoon voiceover anthem.
It’s funny how the bones creak when the door opens and shuts.
A primordial memory. A language before tongues and shuttering.
The postural change of a tucked pelvis re-arranged around books,
twigs arranged into a castle, a waterfall of irony.
I won’t remember the exactness, or the date and time.
I will remember how it feels in my mother guts.
The temperature is dropping dropping dropping
a piano on my toes but they don’t crush they bloom.