BLOWING IN trees shaking their heads in the wind cornfields sprouting blackbirds from the grain they hold at their sides all day I have been opening and closing the words I set next to my name I am one of the students of flight and rest after I flew after I came to rest I said the lessons over and over there is more than one idea of the world but only one train of thought it follows what makes it shake so? its breath never stops moving my breath is used up in a name and then there is more of it blowing in from someone else
next poem >>