still

the sight of a small grey bird

nameless

bright red feather tips

accented yellow

the necktwist

snap

stuck on the front grill

due to impact

we gently pried the clinging lifeless

we dug a hole

near a tree

near its roots

tears clinging to eyes for the small soul

gone and yet still

hovering

bright red

clinging lifeless

we placed bricks over the hole

to keep the dogs from digging

a wrapped body

we lit a candle

smoked sage

calling the bird back

we were still

crying over a lost home

we spoke in apologies

not quite sure of the sacrifice

not sure of when or how

this could happen

so we chalk it up

outline the body in red

we are still

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spider season

a spider is following

the spiders are weaving

“in summer we do not weave”

“it is against our practice”

spinning webs 

to catch

whoever will fall

pray

 

 

 

The bitch will bite as soon as she’s out

a freebird solo landing 

and rising

a blue heron glide

a swan’s white light

 

is this all there is?

 

are there tunnels underneath this rose garden?

the labyrinth to the castle

where she waits

heads will roll

 

I watched her eat her 

prey

meticulous fingers and hands

all 6 help to devour

she returns to the center

she waits

under the Super Full Moon 

I can see her eyes watching

“thank you for the red eyes”

“do you want 

over there by those flowers

the yellow”

will drown out the red

 

she waits.

re-opening soon

I’m in Eugene, OR

(well close enough)

typing furiously

to keep away from loneliness

spells

G-O

 

We moved without a plan

just went, GO!

 

Marveled at giants and ocean fog

now

headachey and suffocating in wildfire haze

hay fever and dander

constant movement has proved rough and rocky

and yet

we keep going

i remind myself

this moment wandering

this hand out

only temporary

 

everything ends

easier written than realized

clocks tick so slow here

 

and all this writing is waiting for a home