HAWKSLEY

oh
 

  from me

  the glass i dance my head thru a rolling ton of steel

        me anothr crumbling story of boy meets

somethin somethin a canal a one seventy five skol
 

i am a sugar      drum thudding thru  tall    nebraska grass

c ornfed falling   in my   dreams

 
overly sensitive bc  i was a hidden hand in the type type

  tippy tap  a shout  thru walls

 
 a  house   is

 
a  house   is    a moving frame

 i am windows i am made of nothing but windows
 

bang on the glass
 

w ake me up from my    steps  away

         who a worthless sing

who a hands       stretch to hold small bird

back bridges to my standing in a quiet

 
  i am nest

   oh and wings and sky is so beautiful beautiful

    i keep looking