1. Dark window
Your heart sinks to the bottom of your teacup
at another orca sky
at another orca sky
this morning.
But don't the birds, ever-singing,
little whistle puffs,
lift your chin —
just a little?
About songs acknowledging the feeling
A song is a skipping stone on a bone-still lake, roads deep dropping into the stomach of the found. One hundred times a water kiss — the head tilt familiar naming something for the city sunset hungry. Then the submerge — playing fish-scales down as lonely bubbles and calling bells meet in new and old voices. LJ Ireton, March 2026.
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