An early Sunday morning poem that didn’t exist an hour ago…yet has existed since the beginning of time…
Sing Sing Birds Uncaged
Sing birds
At the end of night
At the brake of daze
And drowsy dreams
A language few dare
Under stand
A hit with fans
Be wildered
With what smatter
Out and a bout
So sow early
Before worms below
And what remains
Thinking too hour selves
Better off
Then makeup
Words
In a whirled
Note ably without
Mother tongue
Calling us out
Whys that
Unearth knows
Sing sing birds
Uncaged
