Joe Cottonwood

I am Painting my House with Forgiveness

I am painting my house with forgiveness
Come in —
there’s more than enough
I am painting my house with forgiveness
Still wet —
but you can touch

I am mixing a pot of colors
Come see —
come stir with your hand
We are mixing a pot of colors
With pigments —
of many a land

I am planting my garden with freedom
Kneel down —
help plant a seed
We are planting the garden with freedom
No anger —
we grow every creed


JFK Terminal 5

The busy sparrows 
of  New York, New York
feast on crumbs 
from travelers who wait
for Florida, Florida 

Travelers stranded 
by snowstorms 
or breakdowns of machines 
that better work perfectly 
or else, or else

Sparrows 
of perfect design
weave nests of baggage tag string
atop heat ducts and gate number signs 
to lay eggs, lay eggs 

Sparrows raise fluffy fledglings 
to feast on crumbs 
from overpacked zombies 
who wish only to flap flap fly 
from this catacomb,
who wish only to flap flap fly 
away home.

Joe Cottonwood has repaired hundreds of houses to support his writing habit in the Santa Cruz Mountains of California. His latest book of poetry is Random Saints.