i look up and the bird i see is the same as my heart with wings.

 i started thinking of birds in my life when i saw this art show on the bird decline.

the tenderness we feel when we see a bird that died. a perfect bird with eyes closed.

i said at the time hey mister i just had a dream of a bird that danced and lit up in all colors just for me.

if my head turned into a bird my ears would spread like wings.

i thought of a film by bird boy. 

this wing. they often adorned people with feathers. people are so naked they need to be covered. they need to make themselves beautiful like birds. the spirit is depicted as a bird.

above the fire door by the vent i see a bird looking in.

now i hear a woodpecker and a dog barking.

what used to produce arms that destroy becomes a sanctuary for displaced birds. the wetlands are plowed by industrial machines. the seeds are coated with pesticide. the birds in the end of nature die.

this little bird lighted on mister to gather his golden fur for nest.

 birds cry and birds get mad. why would they not.

birds get happy in children's chalk drawings.

i see a baby bird whose eyes never opened, who never got to fly fall dead on a concrete sky.

this was a bird that was caught on a fish hook, sinews and wings.

this is a toy bird that came up on the surf.

 i wonder what birds know about migration that we can't comprehend.

i found a bird nest in this stump below the coyote lookout that is no longer there.

my word bird girl is coming home to read me something deep.