Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Sleeping by Glen Hansard

night owl

(oh) how i love feathers
like

angels and birds, and babies
i twirl

aging / simply on
two feet

and (still)

the downy roast
of
quill

beneath me

rubs my ears. i
flap my wings

to
get away from you,
to

look down on you
and (smile)

oh

happy /glorious/ day,
i am

such a big fan

of feathers...

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