real worlds


By Mike O’Connell
the little bird tweets
from its nasty little nest
struggling to free itself
from the cruel traps
of idolatry sucking
from feeders(going dry)
washing in oil laughing
when the children cry
crying when the koch runs out
so sad
so sad
we’ll really have to
scrub the place when
he is gone
he insults madness
with a unique sociological
condition waving flags
of all of our past failures
as some unrecognizable
version of success
pre doomed
unable to get out of the ditch
a tiny(tiny)bird thing
slogging through its own
slime redacting itself
as it goes
careening toward the
precipice appearing to
vanish in a morass of
screaming tweets
barely heard
over the hum of reality


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