All the Birds Are Leaving #79
I am learning
more
not to compare
anything
to fruit,
especially time
which arrived
before us,
ripe
& arrived
ready to leave
the vine,
almost an oil
already,
we were born
mid-flight
in a bath
of spoil,
but that’s why
I am learning
to love
everything,
even as it turns
into the smell
of having been.
All the Birds Are Leaving #80
How tremendous
the fury
of the dial
that was turned
many times
before
& that now,
we are counting
as an animal
we can return
to spring
& keep there
forever.
Ding. Let’s
begin again.
This time
was my time
& there is no
cold wine
that can extend
my meal
into the next.
All the Birds Are Leaving #81
Skimming
for depth,
I ate small
parts of time,
tucked them
in my belly
& gave life
to nothing,
but belief
that appetite,
the behavior
of it,
dictates
less than
a mask worn
around
no holiday.
It’s something
to give into
when hands
are seasonal
demons
that shovel
light effort.