I’ve got a teenage forehead but the rest of me has aged I look pretty funny but I never claimed to be anything but this mismatched man if God is real I guess me being whole wasn’t part of the plan God must’ve thought I could live on the edges but look around they’re all fenced up ask yourself where are the birds and the hedges? Does a bird mistake a fence for a hedge? No, he knows.
The sky was aglow in orange through the gaps between the trees a fireball of knowledge setting the skies to darkness the slow blinking eye of a wolf rising in the north ready to watch over the night as the owls called forth
There’s something about you that pulls me through trudging through the winters gloom there is a spark in your eyes I can see myself through you might be the light at the end of the tunnel if I was small enough I’d hide in your covert feathers and we could fly to another muse
In the woods grounded in rugged boots stripped from our alienation we stand in communion with the others their tails waving and teeth chattering and beaks opening trailing out winters breath Bills drilling, tongues rolling snapping up a woodpeckers delight nothing is quite the same once you realise even dead trees are teeming with life
Shut up buttercup and lay in the grass We’ll watch the Jays fly past his blue feathers not so covert the king of the oaks Watch him fly and gleam all that he knows His dinosaurian voice And moustachioed wisdom calling to us the harshness of reality as we lay back on fields of yellow soft beneath our skin yielding to our unrelenting bodies in this monstrous yet wondrous world