Saturday, April 15, 2006


There's a bird in my life
It looks different from the other birds
The bird is bohemian, I'm convinced
It keeps to itself

I named it Karma

Karma is earthy, artsy and beyond reproach
but doesn't know its purpose
Karma balances and sustains

There's a bird out the window

I named it Karma

I see Karma every morning
I smile
Karma is reliable
I count on it

I hope I leave this place
before Karma does
If it fails to show one morning
My faith would be shattered

There's a bird out the window

I named it Karma


Blogger Inkblot said...

searching for that cherished, oh so familiar keeps you warm.

8:05 AM  
Blogger Stormy Zephyr said...

Very nice. You surpass yourself, with every piece you write

8:16 PM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

exquisite. wish that i could have writen this. delightful to read like an ancient navajo fable.

9:05 AM  
Blogger bert moth said...

inkblot - It can be found in strange places. I guess one knows the "familiar unknown" when one feels it...

stormy zephyr - You are being too kind. And putting the pressure on, damnit!

cocaine jesus - And you are being far too modest. We all know your imagination is "beyond reproach."

And that's me
quoting myself
and a tired cliche
at the same time

1:19 AM  
Blogger anonant said...

There is a bird out the window and it is the world so dont fear its absence. I like this very much, the mystical quality of birds as symbols is hard to match with any other creature.

2:42 AM  
Blogger Prat said...

resting faith on a few feathers. your faith will fly, free and happy.
this is such a wonderful piece.

5:03 AM  
Blogger transience said...

oh, the pleasures of the organic. well done.

12:53 AM  
Blogger bert moth said...

anont - Pleasure to have you stop by. Yeah, everything out the window just flutters by with a seeming purpose, but not really.

prat - Thank you. If only faith flying were such a certainty...

transience - Pleasures of the organic? That phrase makes me think of something else entirely.

12:39 AM  
Blogger blue rogue said...

...and it flew over the cuckoo's the shoulder of one who sees to deeply and perhaps, too much, but it's never, ever about the bird, rather it is of what you might never understand before the bird flies away, but still yearns to find out.

1:40 AM  
Blogger bert moth said...

blue rogue - You're right. It's not about the bird, but the relationship, thereof. Probably never fully understand, which is beautiful yet incomplete. Not to sound ambiguous or abstract or anything.

3:27 AM  
Blogger Prerona said...

awesome ...

3:04 AM  
Blogger bert moth said...

prerona - gracias.

12:29 AM  

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