uncapped sometimes i leave them
peculiarly anchored in kitchen drawers
like a nurse i seek it’s vein
it’s terrible faults
i smile
bandaging all sides
engraving the marvelous calm
the talkative ink
where street lights veil the shakiness of my hands
I lie here waiting for dreams
There is a bird inside my chest
He’s afraid to ascend once again
Cautiously seabed him with grace
Don’t speak with your tongue
Fingerprint his head with hums
Above it’s throbbing fate God loved his words
Beak dipping his pen to write
His lines defined wanting to be something else than a bird
With less clothing much less clothing this time
Smelling the waist of other hearts
Primitive odored earth wildly stinging him with the masculine poems
