Thursday, June 1, 2017

James Walton #60 Two handed draw




I had thought
like a bird falling from a nest,
undressed as a heart
beating within my palm,
to have outlived usefulness

instead with both arms lifting
because I had no choice,
that frantic beak signing
in all the shredded shorthand,
ever lost to this binary world

placed the wingless thing
into the silky oak’s airy cradle,
then sat cross legged and whistled
a feathery version of In My life,
waiting for new down to form

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