Birds Flapping My Name

I slip inside a cloud
of reality's broken words,
birds flapping my name
across summer sky
where man-made wisps trail,
and rotor blades chop breath
released in scattered gasps.

Within this fragrant early hour
music ripples on dry tongue,
I reach for some gentle rain
and catch my reflection in fingernails.

Automatic machines shake streets
with soapy vibrations -
all in your mind,
I drink oceans of imagery
with casual shoulders slipping,
the buildings inserted
in nature crash bricks to bricks.

Here in my sleeping-bag playground
with rocked together dreams
I stitch pillows with boredom
and scrape earth with shattered bones.

There is no sanity when time invades,
only blank stares and yesterday's nights,
I smile with invisible teeth shining
and the aches of skin burn feet.