Columbaria

Ever since I sent my hair

away, off, away to who knows where,

to live now only shushed deep in my own,

do as vestige, as some sort of failed monk.

He would wear

the suit of a man but with a fall more fair.

He was in a comfortable concrete zone,

somewhere still kind of man, dumb,

meek, business minded, weary, tired.

I didn't mean to chop it this short,

I wanted only a slight rewiring.

I wanted to be unrestrained like sport,

forced to be thoughtful, honest, aspiring.

To improve as a human without exterior support

to be neutral in looks for mind of transpiring.

Yet I'd not made myself into something important.

Not a falcon's short wings,

but wiry seagull's, exerted.

--

So in the shadow of a long haired boy,

My HEAD to my body-- in proportion benign;

to honest with the world about the shape of IT,

who sees cranium and thinks

something confused about a lime:

That man makes me want to go to (garlic capitol of the world) Gilroy.

As my projections start to lack their shine,

I must adapt to the structure, won’t I?

Unity so sublime,

a faceless thing, I must confess,

to become so far from mine.

..

The morning comes to flood my chest,

With sun light from the window.

I turn the sheets into a crest,

I smear myself a bagel.

I drive to work I say no words.

This town won’t hear my cry.

I did that once before morning birds,

they did not like the whine!

I studied them in fact out there

and learned how they abide:

..

When pigeon's in barber's enclosure,

the place that farmers built for them,

they seem to act who ever they are--

not universal like ciborium.

When birdie can dance without judgement in emporium

or free to sit around,

I'm free to be boring,

free to frown,

birdie is free like no need to be found.

Birdie is its own sensorium.

When wings take flight in nature,

they go out where now they're small.

They have to be without nomenclature

to show they can be tall.

But when they stretch out that long stature

and run into a wall,

it turns out there's a horrible prelature,

now I'm not me at all.