Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

"toity poiple boids,
dehd upahn da coib, 
noh muh chiopin or
boipin, 
or eatin doity
woims..."

I found a dead
sparrow this
morning,
sideways on the
stoop, 
strangely unblooded,
gifted by clever
cats, 
it fed my morning
reverie, 
always heavy on my
shoulders, 
in the early frozen
hours, 
of frost's last
gasp, 
my damp spring
mantle, 
as I cling to a
fading memory, 
of my father and his
voice, 
slow step and aqua
velva, 
now etched in lonely
stonework, 
small words for
larger deeds, 
and look at the
small sparrow, 
with its lifespan
like a handclap, 
and wonder if a
creator, 
so vastly beyond
time, 
just got bored with
forever, 
and thought for
shitz'n giggles, 
I'll make frantic
mud men, 
amok among creation,
with half-lives of
remembrance, 
lasting only as
whispers in wind, 
or one (maybe two)
generations, 
if our names are on
a label, 
or painted into
frames, 
hung in plush
hallways, 
ignored by
commuters, 
too busy dying
themselves, 
or just one of the
unlucky ones, 
who bleed out on
front pages, 
and wonder to
myself, 
as I drag the last
few gasps, 
from my cigarette of
choice, 
if I'm the cat, 
or the sparrow.

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