Lonely child you were.

Is it too late to be your friend?

Selfish child you were,

always wanting what you could not have:

red ball, red stool, a dad who gave a shit,

a mother who didn't have to work herself

to the bone.


Pretty child you were,

an ugly old man now.

Is it too late to fold you into me,

to love us for who we are

and who we were

and who we will be?


I confess I abandoned you.

I was out of my mind for so long

and you were lost in the mazes of my heart.

I confess I believed

I could walk the years

without you.


Through this longest night

the beasts of the earth return the sun

to the queen of light

and all the hands of the promise of spring

join the dance

leaving the eye nest

diving into green man

this is who we were

risking everything

confessing nothing

because we could

like a hook, an angry moon, feathers and blood,
Red Bird my confessor.


do i hang, fall or perform head stands?

Red Bird my witness.


Raise me up in transcendental grace

as i tell my story, Red Bird, to you



the reach is absolute

and final


embedded in my skull

that button, that screen


i don't see the sun much



i decorate myself

with ancient dreams


i'm expected to confess

six times a day

(seven on nature nostalgia day)


my favorites are the tree egg

and the animatronic moose

(but i'm not allowed to touch)