There are by far more directions 
Than Cardinals 
 On this Earth  
And in this singular life 

In my search  
My compass has been drawn  
And pointed every which way 
Magnetized by metals  
Medals and soil alike  

Tired of trusting others 
 I've thrown it out  - Scout's honor 
 Let it float and bob down the river 
For some other lost soul to find  
On the quest for a golden way of life 
Washing up on the shore  
As they tread lightly  
Dipping a toe in the shallows  
Before chancing that open water 

If I'm going to find the right direction 
For me 
 Even if it's left  
I must be like the Cardinal 
Splitting time 
Between the tree  
And the Sky  
Refrain from posing a single  question 
To my nature  
As it offers me which way 
 The wind blows  

Even if at times 
 Or in time  
It begins to  
Ruffle my feathers 
 So be it  
It may be good 
 It may cause me to molt 
 I've got the energy for a thousand incarnations 
Willing to climb down any rabbit hole  
That life offers 
 If the stakes are high enough 

And when my wings get tired  
I can quit throwing myself 
Against the forces of nature 
And retire to a perch on a tree 
With a view of the forest And the fields  
Where I can watch the patterns 
Of the world unfold  
A reprieve that only I can choose to leave 
Contemplating or just absorbing  
The fight for balance Between nature and grace  
Maybe I'll sit long enough  
To where I don't even notice 
 The drop in degrees  
As winter sneaks up 
 On me and slowly freezes me 
 Curdling my blood 
 Life comes to a halt  
Where I rest  

An Urn on the mantle  
Toppling as the fire built 
 To stave of the cold  
Expands my molecules To a point beyond the ledge  
Like struck with a wind-whipped branch 
My ceramic shatters  
As the ashes scatter 
 Melting into the snow  
And soil, Until spring  
When the thaw  
Brings me back to life  

In a new form  
A deer?  
A mushroom? 
 A limb for another cardinal? 
 Just a feather on a wing?  
Who knows 
I will go from there 

It may ruffle my feathers  
So be it 
 I'm ready to molt 
 I've got the energy for a thousand incarnations 
I am the energy for a thousand incarnations 
Let them come 
I will fight  
I will eat  
I will be eaten 
Gladly  
I will grow  
I will shed 
 I will fly 
 I will crawl  
I may slither 
 I may swim 
 I will find my purpose and I will serve it 
 I will go from here

Cardinal Direction

Aside from and beyond 
The Rorschach of smudges and toothpaste splatter 
Oh and don’t forget his ex-girlfriend’s towel 
He liked what he saw what he looked in the mirror 
Unable to see his back 
Blindly trusting in a barber that most surely 
Does not exist 
His faux faith shades his eyes 
He lives a filtered life 
A watered down existence 
Everything distilled 
Unbeknownst to him but plain to see 
For those standing guard for reality behind him 
Looking outward to see the truth 
He was more forlorn than he could ever know 
A rag grown old before his time 
Cooked in the Canola Oil and diner grease 
Of the haunts of his fallen heroes 
That may or may not have existed 
But who knows, Belief is imperative 
Without them he might just have to face the fact 
That he hasn’t orchestrated an original thought 
In time 
Secretly glad that he no longer has their competition 
Only sharing with them the rapid death of cells 
Thin filmed sepia toned artists 
Buried in brown and burning 
In a dumpster fire of his desire 
In the alley smoke shoots from the lid 
battering and basting brick walls 
With a fresh coat of old paint 
Slowly inching like slugs 
With a tell tale trail of mucus 
The next generation moves into 
The same beleaguered and woebegone tenements 
As those before them 
Hoping that the Inspiration once found there 
still clogs the pipes and rots the floors 
Signing leases month to month 
Betting against the plastic of time 
And the backwards shadow of an unforeseen future 
His shattered mirror 
A piece of the mosaic 
That he will never grasp 
As he tries to wedge himself 
With the willpower only the truly damned can muster 
Between two beautiful pieces 
That make no goddamn sense 
Buried and brown and burning 
In the dumpster fire of his desire 
In the alley smoke shoots from the lid 
Battering and basting brick walls 
With a fresh coat of old paint

Heroes In Hell

I first saw you 
in the light 
that we had both 
forgotten about 
I had been motionless 
for so long. 
I was sitting 
waiting for my brain 
to pickle 
to a palatable point. 
And all of a sudden 
snout to snout 
your eternal stare 
cutting the chain 
of my anchored eyes. 
We stood in the middle 
of a star 
both trying to name it 
through the distance 
between our tongues 
our hot breath 
was a mutual brainstorm 
cocking heads 
as if releasing 
the lever 
on a pistol. 
No point 
in pulling the trigger. 
This star will burn 
out soon enough 
releasing us both 
back into the wild. 
He wonders what 
I’m doing here, this coyote. 
Alone on a star 
that I keep forgetting. 
A star inside a city 
inside the desert 
surrounded by the undrinkable. 
It’s impossible 
to know 
who belongs 
least. 
A car drives by 
This coyote, he scampers 
and off he goes 
celestial tendons 
dust compacting 
then stretching 
and bouncing 
jumping onto 
the shooting star 
and tethering me 
back in time.

Coyote At Night

Woods & Moon is John Noreen and Cameron Fife. They are best friends. John is from Michigan. Cam is from Kentucky. They met in Los Angeles. They kind of used to be comedians.

woods & moon

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