Stillness
The screech owl doesnt screech. Rather it purrs
softly, or mournfully wails in falling bass tones.
softly, or mournfully wails in falling bass tones.
A rose by any other, eh?
Call me a screech owl then. You shld hear me
low to those hills with my heart beating baritone across
the shrubland desert. I cry not anguish but happiness. I cry
without using my lips, my throat, my tongue, my hands. I cry
tucked into dried elipse cuts through the iron stained rock formation
I wld know the name of, had I listened to my seventh grade teacher.
I cry with no sound at all but that damn heart of mine beating its
rufus breast feathers against stone eyrie, I cry sounding contagious,
like a catching cold, or canyons resounding, my soundless joy catches
up to a thing like shade catches up to anything lies still enough.
low to those hills with my heart beating baritone across
the shrubland desert. I cry not anguish but happiness. I cry
without using my lips, my throat, my tongue, my hands. I cry
tucked into dried elipse cuts through the iron stained rock formation
I wld know the name of, had I listened to my seventh grade teacher.
I cry with no sound at all but that damn heart of mine beating its
rufus breast feathers against stone eyrie, I cry sounding contagious,
like a catching cold, or canyons resounding, my soundless joy catches
up to a thing like shade catches up to anything lies still enough.
