Tortured Birds

Tortured birds

Cackling over our inconsequentiality

Feathers ruffling warning

To the sensitivest eyes

Whose blinking is like stuttering trumpets

Working for nothing but the pain of labor

Reported a crow from an unlit light spire

Bending black and glistening

Without contempt over a Walmart parking lot

Lots of birds, too many lots

Falling from the gaudy sky

Sighing sweetest curses

Mimicking taciturn mice the way down

To our down laps as we dine outdoors

A confetti of ash and down

Marked the 73 millionth day

Of the daily path of walking talkers

Whose walking turned to ruining

Whose talking turned in time-tramsmuting stealth

To sprouting mechanical flora

From seeds of dreams and guesses

Featherless naked frenzy

Wanted and unwanted miracles

Wondering how wings wonder

Why we never try to fly in earnest

Why we never dispose of trying

And simply leap into flying as insanity leaps

Riddles them in severest perpetuity

Like a wound on the wings unsutured.

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