The Great Plane

Sometimes the sky opens
And I am given a plain sight.
One headed west high over land over night.
And when I meet the pacific
It’s not the flight giving me red eyes,
But the heat of an old flame boiling my blood,
With no holes for a hide.

Sometimes the sky opens
And I become glued to illusion,
Caged by fantasies.
Thought they belonged to california
But that prison stretched east.
I am lost in queens
My thoughts are mapped to an old king.
I play out a hundred unresolved scenes
But the boroughs and the dreams bring me dead ends, happy nothings.

Sometimes the sky opens
And out come birds perched on my windowsill
For me to gaze
But if I leap they leave only feathers for my hair.
You are the wound I wear,
A story I share,
My infamous tale.

Sometimes the sky closes
And I am given a clear view
Of the miles of armor worn to face through.
To a side I’m well versed waiting to abandon
To a side that bites at my heels.
Well I have chosen my side for a time
And I leave all flight to the birds.
But I will keep the feathers in my hair.

Sometimes the sky.