bad days

and if reality is silence,

and if truth is sadness,

and being is anonymous,

then i am having a bad day.
*

seeing through it, or not seeing it?

closed eyes-closed arms-
a tourist town.
people walk, walk-walking, cavorting around.

I have weight. baggage. crumbling knees. stand beside me please!
but close eyes. close arms.
don't see. don't touch.
there's a secret a-blowing that no one does much
around here, in this bustling, tourist town,
potential,
dormant,
lies underground.

this isn't me.
this isn't true!
I am in a city but belong in, belong in,

must search for- an artificial home for the time being but I
WILL NOT
SETTLE
for artificial love.
*

first day of university.

birds of feather-
popped collar, puffed feather-
proliferate this room,
and i am not compelled to move.
i see from where i am
dimorphism of man.
with speculative hands,
i wave it all in two.


flocks of birds of feather gathering and pecking,
pigeons on the sidewalk; pigeon girls all strut in circles.
contrast this with the heron
you never see in the building (trapped within four concrete walls)-
except when baited with promised pond.



oh look! a bird of feather
popped collar, lofty plume,
is charming that side of the room
but i am not compelled to move.
watch how all the others move!
and how i'm quiet,
and how i'm still.
watch how they proliferate the room!
my feathers grey-
or are they blue?