those feathered rockets called mourning doves the slow fat flight of sparrows in the blur of hummingbirds, helicopters ascend road runners that must taxi before takeoff and those whistling arrows called falcons   I get that dog allergies and cat’s claws might turn a person off but aren’t we all attracted to those things that soar like excitement rise like hope   or dive, then pull up before hitting the ground, like honesty?

with an ahhhhh I surrender my cold frame into the warm jungle-print cushion of the chair facing the golden morning   face, arms and legs ecstatically make love to the sun, a pleasure to offset the other burdens of a soul trapped in an aging carcass   I notice our spirits don’t age like our bodies do, so clearly designed for incompatibility - a marriage fated for divorce   can you imagine life after this one, single again with no physical form?   awareness without touching   t

ravens chase hawks hawks chase ravens mockingbirds chase ravens hummingbirds chase mockingbirds mockingbirds chase hawks ravens chase ravens hummingbirds chase ravens and hawks and mockingbirds chase roadrunners who only turn and run   but to be a hooded crow, magpie or Eurasian kestrel playing pursuit in Tehran these days is risky   there’s a fat black bird that’s been dive bombing the city every day for weeks, playing no game except obliterate and kill   so birds have stopp