flying birds, excellent birds...

because you were my hero once wearing black bird feathers under the frigid sun and once again then we were equals of a sort of pale pink not without but within a nucleus of soulful melodies singing in the dark of long intrepid corridors that had pomegranate petals embedded in the wooden floors of the many happening lofts with swing doors and loud musical beds tintineando in our sole thin memory of art as air cushioned by music as oxygen mistreated by reality tinted of green envy and purple gluttony splashed by amber sorrows and broken nests and sunken ships that stank of distilled love oil gone wrong but still we never ceased to be free with wings propelled in the wind gusts of two different skies far apart but near and dear as a pair of flying birds --excellent birds of a similar feather flocking together in the distant clarity beyond reality

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foto/texto © omu 2009