los angeles

little feathers falling off
everyday
i see them drifting to the air
dandelions
filling up the sidewalk cracks
flimsy concrete
i let them float, fly on by
let them be free
a poor imitation of
before
the stumps on my shoulders
will miss them
my dulled skin will long for
their everyday graze
but as long as i walk this
earth
as long as i am a stairway
from grace
i must say goodbye to
these wings
surrender in my iridescent
halo
tear the inborn harp from
my fingers
my marble flesh was not made
for these streets
my heart, my hands, were
born for gold
to sculpt diamonds from
holy breath
not all this gray, and not all
this torment
so until the trumpet
calls me home
i'll rot in this city of angels
smoking marlboro reds.