TRUTH Vigilante: Ew, Icky. How Gross?

Swoon?

Having Swooped

I fly into your fan
fly into your fan
into your fan
I fly
toward your fan.

I fly toward you
a swoon, swoop
after I flew
breathing
still inhale

swoop, swoon
in a fragrant redness
in tender tulips
arrival
I re-arrived

by flying to your fan
to your fan
into the window fan
swoop from limb
to feeder

swoop, swoon
swallow
in red clumps
hit the glass
fell, survive

you ask
why won’t I die?

I fly…


5.14.23

Coda: a rehash with perspective

you ask for more
I comply
Fail
Retry
Rest
Not dead, yet…?
Who’s the fool?
99 times, me?

Math is not subjective
does not yield to external factors
unless outcomes are fixed
like clear glass

truth
subjectively hides
on your side


5.14.23

further yet:
you can point to a still breathing bird amid returning flowers in red mulch and question.
it’s a projection of ignorance, delusion and undeniable result
when a plucky bird regroups once it lifts to that limb on the tree outside your home.
Cue a thousand of us: Hitchcock film.