A Lyric

I talk to myself
and then I turn the volume down

lower than under my breath
and now I'm humming my words.

for an hour or two I was thinking
about where those words are coming from

going to. Who is saying them?
Like, this hummingbird monologue

is not an originary song.
I am talking these words like I am

reading someone else's words.
the perpendicular thing about this is

that they're not someone else's words,
they're mine. my sing song subecho

squawk - it's when my voice is someone else's.
die anderen, die anderen, if you hear me

groan in tune then it's the hummingbird and me.
My closed lips and teeth are cage.

The cantus firmus in its frequencies
give me rest, massages me like an Aum

and the grill stops someone else's ahem
the disapproving ghosts of norming

in my room, the bird flying the coop!
The vertical music is some consensus

or a multiple player Mexican stand-off/
Russian roulette

Nightly white bullets
at five paces and 30 milligrams.

The hummingbird nuzzles
up to me with its delicate curvy beak

and tickles me with its tongue.
A Mozartian tangle

After all these houses I've lived in
the dust as luggage

there is pollen in my four chambers.