On how we are, trapped, by our own, fates, destined, to repeat that same, cycle, again, and again, and again, day after day, after day, after day, after, day…translated…
The Birds, not Measured by the Flocks or Singularly, but a Singular, a, Bundle of, the Mountains, the Lakes, or even, a Day.————The Birds, They No Longer Wanted to Live in the Measurements of, Humans Again.
A Bird, it May Not be a, Bird, But that Heart. A Heart that Falls Downward…………All Things that Came to Fall, Will Be Mistaken as being able to Fly, Especially for Birds.
Birds, When They’re in Flight, Lose the Quantitative Measurement, Along with Their Forms of, Being Assigned as, Birds
So, what you see, isn’t, what actually, is, things aren’t what they appeared to be, and yet, we often get too caught up in the forms of things, without realizing, that there could be, the possibilities, of what we perceive being, something else.
illustration by the writer, off of UDN.com
The Eggs of Birds, Fitting to Use in the Poetry, or the, Cooking of, Dishes, as Well as, for the, Working Class.
The Circular, Slouching into Work, Getting Sat on, Hatching Out. The Time Waited for it to Incubate, the Space Incubating it too, coming into form and being, for the Sake of a Brand New, Beautiful, World
Finally, Broken Out of that Shell, Ahhh, that Round, that Round Face of, a, Clown.
The Ears are the Wings on the Face, Flying Upward, Higher, Higher, Higher Up in the Air, Leaving Everything Behind, Yet, Falling Back, into, the Karmic, Cycles.
And so, this is on being, STUCK, as what we are, our roles that we play in the world, we can’t, escape that, no matter how we try, and, we can’t fight it, because, we got, PUT in our, places here.