Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Wednesday, September 16, 2009: Quoted from: small magazine | autumn 08 | page 12

Every day we cope with the dream of flight,
Our incapability.

We feed birds, and print them on our clothes.
We pick up feathers

Fallen on the sidewalk. Children wave at
Airplanes high overhead,

Almost celestial they are so high.
We kill insects that dare

To come hurtling toward our faces at night
On patios, if their limbs are

Long and thin, their forms alien, robotic.
We stuff our pillows

With feathers. Sometimes the stem of
A small white feather

Pokes out against your cheek, thorn-like.
You pull it out, a splinter,

A little fan, and wonder about the feather’s
Origin: did it ever fly?

1 comment

  1. A random comment:

    I absolutely can not stand down pillows because of those 'thorns.' I wonder how anyone can, and assume that they are just a vestige left over from a time when it was an alternative to straw or something. haha


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