Life Before Death

I ask the crow to sing a happy tune
and flash it’s pretty feathers;
To fly in the aroma of the flowers
watered and tended to by us.
I ask the crow to sing a joyful song
despite it’s cries;
To disregard his image of sorrow,
and instead rejoice in the garden
we rise in the middle of the desert.
I tell the crow of life’s limits
and ask him to celebrate with us
the promise of tomorrow
in the color
of all we’ve grown tall;
To relax
in a beauty too great to overlook.


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Lessons Learned in Dreaming

My weary eyes fell closed
and all my senses
sprung to life in the midnight
screening
of two bodies
dancing in the dark.

They lay in silence
catching breaths
and hushing heartbeats,
collecting their minds
with nets
and tying the thoughts together
with the strings.

This is the feeling
a bird knows,
wings spread and wind
ruffling its feathers.

Their fingers lace together
and the canary sings to the eagle;

“You have taught me more-
so much more
than I could have learned
through observation.
You have taught me
the best way to learn
is to experience;
to do.
And I thank you for that.”

The eagle gifted the canary
with a knowledge
only graying blue birds
tend to know;

How to live life free
and without guilt.


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Half-Dead Beauty

Death is not beautiful
when you’re actually dead
But barely living
in half-dead trees,
half-dried roses,
and deathly thin models
it’s often alluring.
How ironic that
fallen leaves,
broken thorns,
and ruined bodies
are considered beauty
but death is only pretty
if you’re barely living.