Filleted feathers, open wide with narrow margins of infinity
Unmelted colors surround linings of fresh blood, slowly dripping for pleasure of sun and earth
Flesh summons the procession of sandy movements, when dust kicks into the spirits of floundering beats
Silence denies thunderous clouds, catering to enveloped fortunes of strewn flutters in burrows of heaven
Flying high in screams that reclaim sights unknown as ceremonies below magnify direction for torchlight
Red stained fingers itch the awesomeness of ominous rituals of songs rivaling the laughter of hidden stars
I killed the bird
And swallowed its beak in pools that squeaked with bites
The bird I killed is reborn at midnight.
