Saturday, January 26, 2008

I am like those birds

come to rest awhile before the next leg -
dislocated, confused by the static wake
of the lover who leaves.

Seeking refuge among humans is a desperate act
at best
one more break and you wonder
if you've ever been in love at all.

I hear the utterances
a coo
a caw
the hum of something they’ll eat later.
These simple words scrawl,
finger-waves across the lake
the curls and spines on an unsteady page.
I can read,
I can form these sound.
I don't know what they mean anymore.

When they go the should-be silence
is shattered in complaint
of what is left behind
a jeer
a cavil
a cry
the shrike cleaving the black and blue calm of night
as she climbs, as she dives
What will answer?

The opposite of love is nothing.

(photo: Hiroji Kobuta, China 1979)


Huckleberry said...

Everything alright?

kissyface said...

yes, thank you, Huck. I knew at once there was a soft heart beneath the mindfists, the grenades and the lock. that's what kept me sniffing around.

I know, this thing's a bit on the abysmal side. sorry. it doesn't accurately reflect my mood at all, though there have been many times...