White Bird

White Bird

Once upon a time, there was a little bird. All of white, she dressed herself in the morning and the songs of half-forgotten cemeteries, all crying out. She was a very young little bird, her downy feathers not quite finding flight. That didn’t stop her from believing that the sky could not contain her joy.

“I only know that when you play with Thelma, you always get the worst of it. That is why I say, be careful.” said Mother.

The little white bird flew along the lines of the trees. She crossed them like barbed wire and landed among the wild yellow lilies. Each one grasped at her with their feline paws and, among them, she knew she had a home. But the joy of the sky was still uncontainable, and something inside of her cried out that there had to be more than this. The lilies wiped their mouths with their sleeves and turned to devour another bite of her tail.

And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all.
And from all across the world, Max smelled good things to eat, and so he gave up being king of where the wild things are. But the wild things cried, “Oh, please don’t go! We’ll eat you up! We love you so!”
But Max said, “No.” And he climbed aboard his private boat…

White birds
are
harder to
chew
than
wolves are

You are not a hen. You are not a kitten. You are not a cow. You are not a car, or a plane, or a Snort. You are a bird, and you are my mother.

The white bird couldn’t escape the gnawing grip of the tiger lilies. Her wings, now clipped by their maws, were tainted red by their bloodstained teeth. Her tail was caught among the green leaves. No one could see her any longer. But reality set in and the traps were broken. The sunrise gobbled up the night and she didn’t want to leave the warm embrace of the bloodied flowers…

Once upon a time, there was a princess –
“Was the princess you?
- and she fell in love –
“Was it hard to do?”
- it was very easy!
“Was he strong and handsome?
“Was he big and tall?”
There’s no one like him, anywhere at all…

iloveyou
crytheweeds
iloveyou
crythebluebonnets
iloveyou
criesthesun
iloveyou
crythetigerlilies

“I know who you are,” the man said, “for I made you. I built the tower and set it in motion. I planted the meadow, put fish in the ocean. I’ve seen you fall down in the mud and the goo. I’ve seen all you’ve done and all you will do. Here’s what you look like. Here’s how I see you. Put this in your pack and you’ll find it will free you from all of the pictures and all of the lies that others make up just to cut down your size.”

Suffocated by the words of the flowers and the desire of the skies, the white bird died…

And Max sailed back through a day, and in and out of weeks, and almost over a year to his very own room, where he found his supper waiting for him

And it was still hot.

Wings fly on.
Beating in her chest.
Maybe it’s her muscles straining to fly.
Maybe her heartbeat.
Only wild things love me,
She sings.
Until the sun
Eats her up
In his enthusiasm to see her
And the joy of the sky
Embraces a
White hand.

{Featuring selections from
A Bargain for Frances, by Russel Hoban
Where the Wild Things Are, by Maurice Sendak
Are You My Mother?, by P.D. Eastman
The Disney classic, Snow White
A Snoodle’s Tale, by Phil Vischer
Original piece, “White Bird” by Catey Yuen}

Two Poems on One Day (Two/ little bits and pieces)

Two

Two planes passed each other in the night

Two silent blinking heartbeats

Two longing believingly hopeful lights

A pilot stops to find a star to eat

Two planes and no delight

Two fireflies passed each other, full of fright

They blink, they cover their mouths

The moon's fear is far too bright

They fall to the ground, careful not to arouse

Two fireflies would never find a might

Two yellow-spiced winds passed each other on the right

Briefly they intoxicate their own poisons

They vomit up their hearing and sight

They turn their blind eyes from wish and reason

Two yellow-spiced winds are always a fight

Two white birds passed each other in flight

Both too tired to want or demand

Their heartbeats and wings fill with breathful white

For just a moment, they hold hands

And two white birds are all quite

little bits and pieces

little bits and pieces

All of life was a map with a key

and it was torn up into

little bits and pieces

I objectify and fragment

I lust and I lose

My vision is a stained glass crackled mirror

Dropped by demons into my eyes

Who are you?

I see only long slender fingers

I hear only the squalling of your singing

I'm distressed by my love

of little bits and pieces

Whole
Half

None

I'll be the white capped head of hair

I'll blend into the green eyeliner

No one will find me

And no one will care

And we'll call the silence freedom

And we'll be free

little bits and pieces

of glass and seashells only cut my hands

but if I were invisible, I wouldn't have to worry

about the little bits and pieces

who like to follow me

I'm a mother duck, you see

And the whole of the earth is my duckling

I spit my bill on the ground

Because I'm disgusted

I peck my bony feet till they're

little bits and pieces

My eyelashes all fell out

And I lost my fingers

In the white lake

Beauty is lust

And vision is fr agmented

All is

little bits and pieces