“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


where we all fall off

we go cautious near the place where the fence stops and life begins;
one foot into the nothingness, followed by the other, followed by a gasp of breath
surprised hands scrabbling i changed my mind into the dirt grasping at leaves
too late.
the fat lady sings her own song at the end.


we go three times across the street,
one for the sun, one for the moon, and once for good luck;
fallen petals spilled across the wet road,
to be circused away by bicycle tires,
flattened beneath the footsteps of tourists,
tasted by raindrunk birds flying from the edge of here and now to there and away.

we go two times against the night, one for you and once for me,
the sound of honey suckling,
the secret whisper swoosh of evening moonrise and breath of darkness falling,

we go one time, together, into the empty places, onto burnt ground,
where my hands speak a language known only to them and wait for answers,
where your birthday candles are all afire, still, unfilled wishes wisps of smoke.

the air smells of a sparrow's fear and leftover lightning no jar can contain.


for napowrimo.  30 days of poetry.
this is my second.


  1. your writing is too beautiful for description

  2. I don't understand all the words and sentences...but I sure LOVE it !

  3. This might be my favorite of yours ever. So much music and life and magic. Just fabulous. Xoxo


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