Thursday, July 28, 2011

Common Nighthawk

I used to be flesh and blood,
but now I ghost down streets
gray-cloaked by dusk;
no weight to my muted feet.
When did I fade out and husk
to a thin hollow reed.
A blaze of Canary grass
gathered up so warmly once,
now strewn down,
feeling only the twilight sound,
the rasping, invisible skree
of the nighthawk calling me.


  1. is this the one you meant for links to your shoes poem...if so email me and i will fix it for

  2. a rather haunting the grass ref and the nighthawk at the end...can hear it...

  3. love the "skree" of the nighthawk ( working on some Onamonapia stuff my self - just earlier today!) ghost down streets - I can see you floating, hovering inches above the street. and no weight to muted feet is another killer line.

  4. now this i recognize more in me. and inside of this lightness i don't mind, not really.