as if the g-forces began to shred and shake
us away from each other and we were no
longer standing on solidest ground.
I didn't know then that birds fly
so awkwardly in their adolescent stages,
that their wings, pinioned like a butterfly
to a corkboard, take such time to spread
and beat free. I guess it was something
eternal that brought forth freedom,
so why do I worry about it so much?
Where is the lyric of purest simplicity
that will set me apart from the others.
My undergrounding scans have brought me
to a place of heightened observance,
as if the whole human race could be revealed
to me in the touch of a hand to a forehead,
or the forgetful act of pressing against
a stranger in a crowded subway car. Simple
simple melodies along a flat world.
