one day

sometime, one day
some day, soon;
the wind whistling–
to my back–
two tunes in unison:
the melancholic melody of a croak
on hard pebbles,
lose– mind your step
    mind your heart

yes, a whistle
in the wind carried
on wings,
       a flock that illuminates
the idiosyncratic path
back home
back to

is this what falling
feels like? a thousand
tiny needles
crawling up my skin;
the ominous wheeze
of a crow, white:

and fear, yes
of getting lost,
in infinite doodles,
lines along lines that arch
in-between arteries, synapses
of recognition
a routinary lightning of the brain–
     the soul alit

but if I am to tumble
may it be
through these empty skies
             drenched in golden light,
along this blinding crow
this singing frog?

notes crashing on the soil:
music the creator of flowers
from wilt, from dirt
one of these days


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s