Animal's House of Muse

Vibes to Feed the Hasty Soul with the States of All that Matters

Month: September, 2020

It, Alone

This is clearly a new moment
My mind is clear as day
And though it stretches out as long
And far as my eyes can see
I can fathom its depths
Clear ends have left imprints
So heavy and dark
That this light will forever
Be bound by them
And purpose must be
The standard for my action 
If I am not to lose myself
In all the possibility 
Their interplay occasions
I hope you'll stay
Even though I'm crazy
I hope you'll stay
Even though stillness
Never really is what it seems, with me
Because this light is love
And it's warm
And I want to share it without condition





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Copyright Keli Birchfield 2020





Of Free Fall and Free Markets

Nutrients don't become me 
Neither do fine clothes 
My essence craves attention 
So I grasp and gasp, unsold 
A substance filled of fairies 
Nothing - quite composed 
Thin air and vain compulsion 
My favorite wares unfold 
Ever lasts 
Which ever asks 
In exchange -
Their repose
Just positions
Unconditioned
Rates apply, 
So it goes
Yes, agreed
A fair, signed deed
A quick swell
Quick to slow
Surprise!
Inside, a surcharge hides
Lost in fine print's leer
Aghast!  
My dear!
With such standards, here
Any fool's 
A wonder
I suppose





Copyright Keli Birchfield 2020

Corona at the Corner Market

Heralded by wayward tumbleweeds and a cloud of dust, a damp shadow descended upon the every town grocery, smelling like it hadn’t a care in the world. The doors automatically acknowledged the figure, which tipped his sweat-stained ballcap at the outdated security camera capturing all the action occasioned by the doors. Caught off guard by enigma, the camera short circuited and took with it the flickering fluorescent set as a familiar above its station; prompting the midday shoppers to stop and wonder at the high noon hullabaloo that cast itself upon their routines. He had no cart. He had no basket. He only shuffled through the produce aisle, inspecting all he surveyed as if the displays were meant solely for his prudential judgment; picking up every potato with his dirty mitts and haphazardly tossing each back. An incognizant, old lady went to pick a potato and the whole pile, unsteadied by the tramp, toppled about everywhere. The old lady, unsteadied by the potatoes, followed their lead to the floor. He continued down the aisle, unafflicted by the old lady’s plight, molesting the apples in the same manner he had the potatoes. A baby cried, awaking its stupefied mother from the spell of the stranger’s odd presence. “Excuse me, sir,” the mother demanded “Who do you think you are? And what do you think you are doing?” The man stiffened his back, sucked his snaggle teeth and with terrible breath replied, “Well, uh, that’d be no wonder.” He then turned and drifted right on out the doors, which automatically acknowledged his figure one last time before they closed for good.

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