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While cleaning the aviary (Haiku) by Jeremi B. Handrinos

Webs, feathers, eggshells Not a song left to whistle Rats run these corners

Jeremi B. Handrinos 29-May-03/11:52 AM
Splendid, with linking verbs and grooming, ah, yes. My grandfather had Parkinson disease, and I would park him precariously at the top of the basement stairs. Leave him there for hours, and even more hours, to ponder the jagged paint chipped depths and irregular angels. Breathe down his neck rhythmicly while wispering the laws of gravity just outside of his ear. Buttering up a finely toasted warm cinnamon bagel. The crackel of that knife pulling over the sweet toasted bagel. Like cracking ice & frosty mud under well balanced frozen tires. Yes, love thy elders.




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