Dreaming nonsense February 15

Careful as you trace the path of the wild birds.
They may go deep into the forest,
decide to rest on a high branch
and look at the world.
You can just look at anything as if it is another
visible word, floating in the air,
walking on the ground.

The inner petals of a rose
squashed under your foot.
A tune disfigured in a jingle,
words quoted out of context.
How many forms of abuse
do you witness?

Everything can blow away with the wind,
this view can be left as dry
as your pallette after you’ve begun to sing.
And still you will feel ok,
you will walk to the station, go home,
dream nonsense. But feel ok.

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