disobedience towards black birds > god

i'm stringing peppercorns
around my neck to keep the black birds away.
they stand like little policemen 
outside my front door with their metal eyes. 
any animal could actually be a machine these days.
you never know 
what technology you're dealing with.
the black birds 
have beaks like guns.
i learned my modes of protection 
from observing 
how the clouds abscond 
when they no longer want to be painted
by a man standing 
in his backyard. i walk up the hill first
like a fragment of hail flies up
before its final plummet.
about the black birds, i don't know
who created them.
they move between the sky 
& the underworld. you have to understand 
i did nothing wrong that i can recall
but i still feel guilty.
i speak in a hushed voice
to the black birds.
i say, "please leave & i will 
give you all the rings i have."
two black birds share a look
of consideration & they accept the rings
for today. i am a bad human.
i kept a ring. a promise with a black bird
is like a promise with god.
i am certaintly going
to the factory when i die. 
steam & pistons churning me
into a spring. for now though
my life is small & warm.
i fit in the gutter
if i whisper enough. a voice
is an extension of the spine.
the leaves are paper macheting themselves
to the street. a great collage
none of us can see.
the trees are artists.
paint brushes are made of wood
but if you plant one it will
return to the tree it was.
my grandmother knew nothing
of alchemy. she just did whatever
the birds told her.
i can't be mad at her.
back then, people just did 
what they needed to 
in order to make the sun climb down
& up again.