Gold Chickadees Sing

Gold Chickadees Sing
© Surazeus
2022 12 18

All the houses where my ancestors lived 
over the past one hundred thousand years 
are now occupied by strangers to me, 
but their voices are tangled in my hair 
so I eat strawberries by the cold lake 
and listen the gold chickadees sing. 

Snow falls at midnight on Seattle streets. 
Every house I pass in suburban maze 
glows gold with life of the people inside. 
Lights of many colors on Christmas trees 
flash bright with eerie honesty of death. 
I want to hear the gold chickadees sing. 

Every door I pass in the city maze 
is locked against intrusion of despair 
to hide truth in metaphors ghosts design. 
The apple pie on round table of peace 
invites wolves and sheep from Arcadia 
to party while the gold chickadees sing. 

To play chess in war to control Neverland
I wear mask of Jupiter carved from oak 
Pinocchio gave me before he died. 
As firstborn son of Lucifer the Wise, 
I learn to play guitar with nimble thoughts 
to mimic how the gold chickadees sing. 

When sons of men write poetry 
their thoughts get tangled in telephone lines 
woven into matrix of the world brain. 
The book I never wrote will fly away. 
The girl I want to marry holds my hand 
so we kiss as the gold chickadees sing. 

The house where I live now in Onatah 
was never occupied before my birth. 
The television in the cabinet, 
carved from the tallest pine tree in the world, 
reveals the secret lives of janitors 
who record sad tales gold chickadees sing.