Birdstone

by Tim Clark

There's a high outside of height
that can paralyze the air if your
breathing becomes numb.
While in flight I try to feather step
around heavy clouds; rain skipping
across the sky like pebbles.

Inevitably, I'll come down because
it's not wings that are needed,
it's a mind that can rape gravity
and puncture solid substances
to abuse mass as science tames
the masses with airplanes.

Take a seat, we'll be on our way.
Pass the pipe if you want to see your
tarot cards thrown out the window.
We're parrots, soon to breed elephants
who wait for crackers and peanuts.
Attendants to our grass cage addiction
are saying "I'm sorry for the weight."

I'll use the sun to light my cigarette.
If the captain sees us exhibit fear then
clearly we're affiliated with terrorists.
Security checked my shoes and
made me tap dance over trip-wires.
While everyones alarmed I pull fires
towards the door for kids ordering
tickets to travel in smoke circles.

Radius hates circumference
So set your sights to deep purple.
As the squares go round about
faces radiate but retain doubt.
Oxygen remains our anesthetic.