h a w k s

at home in the woods

flying down into the yard

i use to paint them 

from images

from memories

at Moosehead

in my dreams

i use to paint them

they left me feathers

on the Appalachian Trail 

at Moosehead

in Griffith Park in Los Angeles

during an encounter 

within the hidden greens

within the hidden hills of Runyon

I think I saw you once

I kept hiking / running / moving

I like to keep moving

as the h a w k


played out the path

I follow feathers

dropped down to me

in my dreams i paint as hawks fly

in my dreams i sing as hawks call

in my dreams i move now as hawks do

in my dreams i'm in my dreams now more than ever

now i hear their calls at home, in NYC, in Philly, when i am walking - they seem to follow me - that 


black bird,

those birds would follow me too

on walks through Los Angeles, in Griffith Park

followed me home and stomped on my roof

their stomps and gliding in the air above became so thick the sky darkened


the hawks soared in

the moment's call

s k w a h h h h h h


- c a t t é