Poetry at the end of the world

 

At some point the birds that die 

Upon the ground beside the building 

Will mean the ones who live

And breed among glass canyons 

Will see what glass is

Maybe not the glass 

Precisely, but maybe the line 

Between the parquet floor 

And the manicured lawn

Until then, the stray cats

Live well in the shadows 

Where the birds strike

The invisible wall between us

/@/

The Endangered Crane Hunts Fish inside the Courtyard Pond

Oh Bird, who will not know the price of koi 

Who will not know the why of shallows 

Packed with so many colored swallows 

Gulping down the jeweled flesh in joy 

While the company refuels the stock

Oh Bird, there is a law that says you live

You do not know how untouchable, survive

Upon the architects vision, sky unlocked

Where gates are always closed, endangered now 

With so few marshes left for hunting

Oh Bird, who stands upon a the bench below

The window of the king, cawing pooping

When the janitor flashes lights into you

Or claps and makes a sound, your graceful leaping