THIS GRAND POMADE
This grand pomade is landlocking me. I cannot
walk with such heavy feet. Every distance I see
is an illusion, as all space is but a confining corner.
My pet bird has sanctuary in the sky - a place I
do not have. Yet, (be still, my wings), I hear the
sound of that dominant hawk, a sound I recognize.
In this smallest of containers I keep my heart and
soul; should some great raptor of the sky take even
me away, I would surely note the difference of
detection, me seeing nothing versus me seeing all.
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