who needs exercise when there’s the hammer-jack trackstar heart of panic?

my confidence, oh confidence,
it’s shattered. 
a bald eagle, ubiquitous in these parts 
like pigeon in strip mall parking lot, 
sits high atop a low building, wings 
askew. is it drying itself?
is it in pain? 
does it hold its wing with
the same tenderness that i try 
to hold my fleeing head? 
put a hood up and listen 
to the lust of the rain. bury 
your head and see what you can 
convince to remain.

my confidence is shattered
and i have not seen 
anything 
quite so beautiful 
in months.

she left me in a boat 
and i have always been 
a strong swimmer. last night another 
one brought me back to my animal. 
a few nights past i was quietly spoken
to about ferality; mind and 
its hunt for brain. perhaps my 
animal took into its hinged jaws
the remnants of my winged 
confidence; 

it is of stained glass so as to be
shattered. it is pliable 
like bruise. it is 
another way to try 
to fit my mouth around beauty,
a lolling tongue only 
beginning to become 
accustomed, the weightless space given it
by that which has broken and
left. rightly so? it cannot be determined, 
these versions of judgement have lost
their meaning, they now find stunned
rest in the round ringing
of honey’d bells. 

confidence, it gets in the way
of fervency.
the bones that hold us up, are given
to worship. 

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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