Wings, Water and When

moonset
night light falling
into dawn –
two crows embrace
scorched earth

I crowned someone king which meant someone, or lots of someones, were not chosen to be king. This was an error. For I have no king.

Days lengthen minute by minute so I begin to dream of Pleiades. Her hot blue stars claim the nomenclature to sail. Harmony in the heavens, yet water, always water. Water always gets through; it just may take some time.

He called me a “beguiling siren for the power of good,” carrying those with wings down under the surface of remembering for Love's sake. And I was like, “fuck off” but then I was like, “yeah, I guess.” I don't know man, can we just say it plain?

If so, it would sound like this:

everything is fine
we know what we are doing
simply be aware and ready
of the chance to fall, jump or step
helplessly into
Love

I was born in a place called Sparrow Hospital in a Great Lakes state in October. Wings, water and when matters.