a parade

i am an artist.
like the small
bearded man who
can gracefully
hammer a nail into
his nostril…
after years of

I write poems
the way people
look at a caged
of the sight
but somehow
by the containment.

I am an escape artist.
I just haven’t performed
my routine yet.

I am a comedian.
I just haven’t made you
laugh at the perfect time.

although, you do laugh.

although, the nail
doesn’t matter.

I have played tricks
on myself. the kinds
of tricks you find at
the bottom of a cereal box…
when they used to
burry tricks in the bottom
of cereal boxes.

there are birds of colorful
feathers that run around my
yard, in my head, in my fingers.
I haven’t caged them yet,
because I haven’t decided
if I want to keep them.

but I want to keep you.
and I haven’t even seen your
colors yet.
I already want to put you
behind bars, where only
I can feed you.
where only I can see those
mystical colors that confuse
other spectators.

I convince myself I know you
better than anyone else.
although, I know you in
only bits and pieces.
primary colors, rather than
a spectrum.

but I still want your feathers
to adorn my festival.

I still want you to watch me
swallow fire as I look in
your eyes and tell you,
I can’t feel a thing.


Categories: Poetry

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