Separate Waters — A Dream

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“Separate Waters” — C.Birde , 11/18

 

The bridge extends.

Below, to either side,

in frantic haste,

wide waters part.

We stride

in confidence,

reach the midpoint of the span

and cross beyond…

When,

in headlong rush,

the tides return,

frilled with crashing

foam…

His name lodged in my throat,

upon my lips;

in fear,

I cry aloud

for his steadying hand…

Out of reach…

beyond reach…

A fury of water collapses, collides,

consumes my voice, my limbs,

my life.

A thunder of water

separates.

A wall of water

divides.

 

— C.Birde, 11/18

 

Dinosaur — A Dream

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“Dinosaur” –C.Birde, 10/18

 

Small dark apartment. Smaller cramped kitchen. So many stories up. The others mill about with mugs in hand, gather around the tubular-legged formica table. Dressed in pale, loose-fitting clothes, they shuffle like sleepwalkers.

The kitchen’s single window – large, wide, with neither curtains nor panes – stares unblinking, westward, out over a great ravine, toward a ragged bluff on the opposite side. A long, low structure defines the bluff’s subtle shifts in elevation. The structure’s white walls are incomplete in places; it lacks a roof. Slowly, the sun sets, illuminates walls and rooflines in relief. The underbellies of great, dark clouds strung overhead catch fire.

Beyond the building – there, in the fathomable distance – stomps a tyrannosaurus rex. Enormous in size and ferocity and appetite, it tears through the low, roofless building, pulls off great chunks of cinder block, plucks out terrified people…gnashes bodies with its foot-long serrated teeth.

Don’t look…don’t notice…don’t acknowledge the awful danger. Don’t allow the thoughts to twist and form and grow… Don’t look here…Don’t notice us…Don’t hurt us

Too late.

The fear, like a siren song, trembles upon the still air. The creature turns, glares across the ravine’s expanse, leaps it in a single pump of its powerful hind legs. With a thunderous t h u m p, it lands atop the building several stories up.

Tearing teeth. Sundering  claws. The creature pulls apart the upper floors. The ceiling trembles, cracks, lets loose a drift of plaster dust. Formerly a drowsy environment, the kitchen erupts in frantic cries, dropped mugs, and calamity.

The monster digs its way down and down and inevitably down.

 

— C.Birde, 10/18

 

Vacansopapurosophobia — A Poem

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“Blank Pages” — C.Birde, 8/1

 

What if

the words won’t

come

the spark won’t

catch

the page remains

a complex

blank

of possibility —

unshaped,

unformed,

unsculpted.

What if the muse,

accepting of all

blame,

remains

on the periphery,

out of reach?

Beyond the barrier,

Gray Catbird sings

improvisation…

My hand,

cramps.

What if

What if

What

i

f

?

 

— C.Birde, 8/18