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Finding a
tiny
feather
on the
sidewalk

does not
mean you
can grab it.

do not
try to
nail it down
beneath claws;

the wind will
pick it up
and fly it
away

[do not try
to make
nest of it]

it may look
like a part
of you,

but it is
not you,
or yours.

it belonged
to another
bird-

-now
nothing
at all.

[attached
never
really
means
ownership]

probably
did not
all along.

Focus

This bird is Trapped in my Camera Frozen in Take-off Forever

the plant
extended itself
just slightly
towards the sun

to motion,

“hey, I
need more.”

maybe we all
have a way
of doing that

whether
cognizant
of our own
movement
or not.


a centipede
flew down from
the wood awning
fearlessly

then skittered
across
floor boards

in pursuit
of destination
building crevice
[pretending
it knew
just
where it 
was going]

maybe
we all
do that
too.

flightless

silly bird,
you
cannot
make your
nest here.

even if
you can
piece
those little
fragile
bits of life
together
convincingly.

i have
flown
around
pearching
on
powerlines
my whole
life.

I never
fly
the coop
in winter;

I am
impermeable
now
to all
seasons
meant to
do me
harm.

origin

the
amount
of times

I want
to fly

off
the side
of high
railings
is

-every-time.

Even
being
-near
an edge,

I feel
the
weightlessness

-lift
me up

and
-take
me
away.

I’ve
always
dreamt
of flying.

In my
mind places,

I soar
up to
building
and tree
tops.

Maybe
my mother
knew
-somehow

when
she looked
at me
long-ago

as
little
bird;

her motherly
instinct
gently
telling her,

“this one
will not
-stand
for being

|contained|
or
smothered-out

like the
others.”

Territory