I jot down the words that’ll never be sung...

Birds Appearing In A Dream
by Michael Collier

One had feathers like a blood-streaked koi,
another a tail of color-coded wires.
One was a blackbird stretching orchid wings,
another a flicker with a wounded head.

All flew like leaves fluttering to escape,
bright, circulating in burning air,
and all returned when the air cleared.
One was a kingfisher trapped in its bower,

deep in the ground, miles from water.
Everything is real and everything isn’t.
Some had names and some didn’t.
Named and nameless shapes of birds,

at night my hand can touch your feathers
and then I wipe the vernix from your wings,
you who have made bright things from shadows,
you who have crossed the distances to roost in me.

I hope you’re learning to listen
And I hope you’re learning to stay
And I hope you find what you’re missing
And I hope that you’re making you’re way
I’m a headcase if I don’t keep moving
And my head hurts if I don’t sit still
It’s an itch that I’ll never stop scratching
It’s a hole that I’ll never quite fill