Poetry‎ > ‎Buckets of Wisdom‎ > ‎

Flying Refuse

Saint Paul, 27 June 2016

We're germinated through the soil of refuse
Popping through leafy matter and pot shards
Two reflective safety mirrors for sight
that betray our central narrative
which is a lie

Hurricane glass pushes through our skin
oxidized metals flanges in the subdural
like notes stored on a piano roll
Our actions are autonomous
but nonetheless random

Disposable batteries with little reactive life
causing a racket clapping brass cymbals
like monkeys in a storefront orchestra
as if the only way a bird can survive
is to remain in flight