songs from lyres and harps. You
like the mother bird
distant from her offsprings,
flew to its suctions. But
it popped veins; not nurtured.
Why fly with it, blue bird?
Four pages of thirties.
The first of the seventh.
When hands stretch up northbound.
Earthly smell, budless seeds
wrote the lines we wasted,
mummed. I never knew you.
What pretty thoughts lingered
on that cherubic smile
when eyes strained you lifted
to hear the light calling?
Enchanted by your name,
you flew towards the glare.
With fingers trembling you
sealed yourself in Paris
pumped across the drizzle
like a wildfire blazing.
Faster and hotter you
curled bigger and darker -
A balloon in your head
'Til the life it contained
Rebelled from its shackles
'Til the heart is a prune;
the love enclosed submerged
by the blunder of light.
Alas! thunder flooded
and rain boomed heavily.
Nostalgic bits spilling
onto the cold, hard gray.
All you are, all you were
Delivered to the throne.
Why had you flown away?
What from were you running?
To whom were you running?
All the lines that matter
remain like budless seeds
between the earthly smell.
The light has dimmed itself
since it called and up you
went instead. Inferior,
trembling like a thief caught,
flooding eternity
while you flapped towards it.
You kept the world hidden
from the smile we will not
forget. Now up you go,
Color all hopeless tears.
With harps and lyres, fly high
Like a blue eagle, fly high
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