pigeon.

the moon's tendency to reach deep into
the core, past the fraudulent markings,
bone deep, skilled with whispers, of secrets
and claims of you.
accepting the longing to be a somebody,
and you can scream as loud as the void
is big.

one life whose song i would
love to claim -
speaks into freedom its wings get
from curiosity.
what a design on my balcony.
he rushes closer to be
heard with his conclusions.
what is me, and what does he see?
chill with a nights' breath,
utopias from holy hands,
no boundaries on the blueprint.

i wonder if he flies over to
warn of the future, or
invite me to his lair
of feathers blossoming.
it would be my pleasure to take him
as far as the psyche can handle.
plunge deep on borrowed wings
until the clock shatters my body,
and as it turns out - - -
i too have defied gravity.