When I start hanging metaphors

on the air

in order to glide

into some sort of understanding about my life,

start hovering over myself

like a bird lifting its head out of a cloud

to see who is paying attention,

when its clear,

all I want to feel dusting my crop

is a little wing of pity,

and perhaps a little more love,

the pilot in me jets away

from trying to be as strong as a mountain,

and ends up feeling outmaneuvered

like everybody else.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: