Warble

A bloodless coo
I hear
on my hands

A mud flipped slew
I eye
on my lands

A rare balmed lip
I trip
in the stands

A birdless flue
I spit
on my hands

Where I Am

Where I am? in A haven today,
art along these silent shoes,
books by my halls,
organized.

Where am I? in A haven today,
music on the clock-radio
dust, sleeping street
of a sleeping view.

Where am I? in A haven today,
coloring in my family’s
lyric, small heart
of a consistent thump.

Where I am? in A haven today,
winds eat away the
windows I close, will
open up myself.