I didn’t post a little poem last night, but tonight I’m in the mood. One more from the archives.
I love their smell and that tiny odor of shit.
They fly from one end of the cage to the other.
A branch and a slab of cuttlebone, fresh water.
Sometimes they sit apart like friends who have recently fought,
but mostly, as when they sleep, there is nothing between them.
When I open up the cage to give them water or seed,
they never leave. They perch high on their twigs.
If you set them free, Eiji says, they would die.
They are grown up, but would not know how to live.
The usual words would not do: water, sleepy, feed me.
By publishing these little poems, I am hoping to inspire something in myself. Because I don’t like most of them, but they are proof of a soul that needs to make things.
And yes I am a consulting Astrologer and Tarot Reader but decided to post 30 Poems in 30 Days, partly in honor of Pluto beginning his transit through my 5th House and partly for more mysterious reasons. I think I discovered one of the other reasons though. As I was digging through the digital archives, I discovered a poem that was saved nowhere else but in my email and that poem (not seen on the blog) is the one that will be published. See, I would not have found it, if I hadn’t been looking for poems. That’s how life works sometimes.
Are you in charge of mysteries? What are they?