December 2010
1 post
the glass pane
there is no beauty here. broken-necked birds heads hanging on snapped spines ruptured lungs suck shallow breaths twisted napes above stiffly shut wings so we draw them in air on clear skies toward a full sun slack necks soaring wind burying beak into breast blind but still winged we are so proud to see them in flight suffocating with wings outstretched