Poems

Song

Facing down wind in a dust-storm
wrapped up in his cloak
and wearing a hat that can’t make him vanish —

this skinny man
scans the horizon
gathering — but not quite yet — flowers
until the moment you meet

(… but stuck in this narrow alleyway
among mountains of rubbish
he longs to lift up his beak
unfurl his wings
and take flight…)

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