Flights,Birds, Skies

There is something the jailer does not know;
you can take the birds down from the sky

yet you cannot take the sky away from its inhabitants
it stays in them, because it has always been home

this is the sense of wings, there's a new power
that is given by virtue of the space that opens up

to contain the power of the flight
once taken, like a release, like freedom is to life.

despite the hammer

tedious cold, end of summer
a common, textbook image flies
despite the hammer

A lazy Saturday

Rain has sneaked into your dreams like an old song
tapering over the little things you lay out to sun-dry
coats, misspellings, containers, clothes hanging high and low
you scrape it up, stop complaining about the water
then sit, with fuzzy slippers and old pajamas
watching the same old series run over and over
love scenes, kisses, empty dreams
you light a candle to break away from the dark clouds
lay tucked with the music surrounding you
while you make a composition of the noise and notes
this is a lazy Saturday where you combat all the things
that make you feel alone, all at once.

A super blood moon, tonight

Keep your eyes on the skies tonight
the witching hour has a spectacular sight
tonight's full moon is the product of three phenomena

it will be a blue moon, a red moon, a super moon
for the times you were red and blue, moaning
the moon will appear larger and brighter

it will also be a blood moon
the shadow of Earth
will lean to breach over the fields

Stargazers, eastern and central will see a clear skies
the Wolf moon falls over us, it had once inspired
mankind, enchanting with witches' calls

packs of wolves hungry
to rare breeds, run after the thirst of blood
yet there are many bleeding without purpose

here is everything you need to know
full moons can be admired
they light up the skies, like fireworks, like phenomena
gathering wolves, witches and men under one roof.

observations of a young new mother

Wavy wintertime

his little hair creates

a break in the rain that’s falling

before the chocolate is consumed

by his little milky teeth

A powerful weekend earthquake

injured thousands,
survivors were at home, asleep

others exposed to the night cold
we need everything, they cried

help, aid, water,
in all our three tongues

footage of rescue workers
offered only condolences

dispatched to those waiting
to be treated

shelter, they said,
had been provided

this is anarchy, how the world ends;
a lack of water

a lack of light
chaos on the roads

help,aid, water,
we need everything, they cried

mud brick can crumple
these days

 fault lines are not our own
so let's revert to historic dust

footage of digging people out
rescue workers offer condolences
and the cold eats what remains of the sky.

a good green seed

You see the good green seed,

Knowing

The sun with its burning glory is hiding behind gray clouds 

night-waking in winter

Tonight I woke
to the sound of fury

the sky splits open
like women giving birth

to rain, to pebbles
to the things we touch and flinch

tonight I woke
to the sound of fury

tin houses holding
the pitter-patter

ding-dong
of drops, the sky cries again

yet those who are under it
 receive the lashes

those shaken houses
with foundations of sand

built on frowning fathers
drowning mothers

pitter-patter
ding-dong

tonight I woke
to the sound of fury

washing earth
like women giving birth

to the next generation
that rises out of mud

a question to the skies

Is it still blue and dull
the sky that receives my open hands
every single day?

the call of the free

Whatever freedom says
I answer her shortly
no one knows of the power left
in the pigeon's wing
after it was released from the knife at their edges

the poet wonders

She ponders if the natives are the color of the sky
or if the have fled the earth or become it-
I think of my grandfather, hunched over the land
watering the sky