robin,
oh robin,
do you hear the window scream
each time your sunshine-tipped beak
tries to kill its silvery panes?
robin,
oh robin,
do you see the tiny cracks spiderwebbing,
rippling across the glass, fleeing the awful punctures
where your angry confusion was directed?
robin,
oh robin,
do you watch the destruction
with a pleased eye, thinking that your enemy is that much closer
to its demise?
robin,
oh robin,
do you really think
that your reflection
is the problem?
looking up at the sky,
i can understand
why ancient people thought
the earth was flat
and the sky was a dome
our own personal snow globe
only,
we're trapped in it.
now we know
When the rivers turn to blood,
we will know
that our violence,
our unending savagery, our cruelty,
things we pass off as normal,
has gone too far.
When the rivers turn to blood,
we will know.
little lions
poking up through the sidewalk cracks
little lions
rambling along the sides of hills
little lions
puffy yellow stars shining like the sun
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