a bird song
I scrape the art off my window every morning
my mittens are white-crusted with salt.
rattling along to work
sun singing through my windshield, shuttered by grime
shuttling this thread through the warp and weft:
how i was once a child
in a web of history and structure
and endless wonder
and how my days have become
so regulated and dull
not to hold nor protect
but to keep and forget
that there is still magnificence
unweave
to see how it is woven
you cannot help but to compliment the craftsmen
and some teacher am i
not realeasing you to be proud and find your own way
i hold tight and claim your work as mine
because i still want to win
even when it is well beyond competition.
i like systems, and i like to put you in one. Maybe if it seems effortless, you will not notice.
did those systems teach me right? did i learn what all those words mean
will i totally destroy my children?
my mittens are white-crusted with salt.
rattling along to work
sun singing through my windshield, shuttered by grime
shuttling this thread through the warp and weft:
how i was once a child
in a web of history and structure
and endless wonder
and how my days have become
so regulated and dull
not to hold nor protect
but to keep and forget
that there is still magnificence
unweave
to see how it is woven
you cannot help but to compliment the craftsmen
and some teacher am i
not realeasing you to be proud and find your own way
i hold tight and claim your work as mine
because i still want to win
even when it is well beyond competition.
i like systems, and i like to put you in one. Maybe if it seems effortless, you will not notice.
did those systems teach me right? did i learn what all those words mean
will i totally destroy my children?