we missed the opening band because we went west when we should have went east

the pigeon had a flare
of errant feathers
on its head,
making it look like
a punk rocker.

we took a video
with our phones and
laughed as it walked
quickly about
the city street.

the city street
wet in the night,
smeared in the street light,
though there hadn’t been any

we didn’t think
at all about
the pigeon had its
head feathers so
didn’t think to pay
attention to its

we just laughed
and watched it walk
quickly and
in circles and
in the city street.

it can be hard to see
out from inside
these vessels.
all this light
and sound and
comes pouring in.
even while we sleep,
the mind walks itself
in circles,
wet and smeared
in light.

for some of us,
it can be difficult
to not allow our
turn us to
to contemptible.

we felt morose
later in that same night,
hours after having
about the pigeon.
it’s common to feel
let down
at the ending
of a night,
we thought.
not thinking
at all.

are those who do not
though are never
swept free of dust
are those who are
in their vessel,
but are not
buried inside.

tiny pine cones form on a Winter plant

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: