ID-iom — A Dream

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“Graveyard” — C.Birde, 9/18

 

“…it’s like…”

 

A sourceless voice,

mild as spring,

spare as winter.

 

“…scattering breadcrumbs…”

 

They appear in hand,

tiny, pale fragments,

brittle as stars.

 

“…in a graveyard.”

 

The landscape shifts,

the monuments resolve –

tall, dome-shouldered,

indecipherable.

 

 

— C.Birde, 9/4/18

Meaning, Lost — A Poem

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“Meaning, Lost” — C.Birde, 1/18

 

Choose with care.

Deliber-

ate.

This word over that.

Consider

tone and texture.

Clarity.

Bead and knot and string.

Craft each sentence.

Vanity.

Meaning slips,

coils into place

within another’s

throat.

 

— C.Birde, 1/18