Friday, June 27, 2008

after Bukowski

We all tell stories of bluebirds
stuck in our hearts

as though nests are forever
as though we own our hearts

but the rest of us live in the water
and the bluebird can only fly for so long

before there is no more land
for landing.

(This was written after listening to Bukowski's "Bluebird" as a "poetry challenge" from another blogger, Scot Young, from Be Not Inhospitable to Strangers)

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