MAGICal words?

MAGICal words?


I do magic.

but tonight….

I killed again.

A harmless living snail 🐌

when I wasn’t watching

where I was going…

Lack of awareness


Garden snails…

But Look, 👀 I can do magic. I give life.

I even have energy to burn.

With the flick of a finger,

I create light, even.

Feels like magical

days upon days

of touching

a tiny


You too?

Magic? Magic, “you say?”

Tell you more about this P.C.?

But first, let me tell you…

What isn’t magic or P.C. is knowing what I know now as an “adult”. One who acts like the most loving child you might ever meet. I live out this story that I also co-create each day with all the people I play with (and secretly love). People in life, “my life” with others, and these series of small miracles that only recently started to make sense. What isn’t making sense is this present Revelation I also feel I am in.

What isn’t magic is knowing that the miracles have only just begun as I wait for one small miracle “of life” to return after another, with grace for what is _BEing human_ and almost every human’s deep desire to feel safe (and loved) by day/night. In these ways and more, I want to perform magic and even do miracles in this world (by way of words).

What isn’t magic is those old forms of manipulation we put each other through when we didn’t know what was up or down. When we didn’t know how to non-violently communicate our love, &/or even how to express that level of appreciation for a sisterly or brotherly version of love and recognition, you know “that old feeling”.

What isn’t magic is that old legacy version of vanity when we cared about what race or version they were, how much money they had, where they lived, what they wore, the kind of car they drove or even what they ate yesterday. That doesn’t feel like magic to think or believe that I am any better than any homeless man or woman sleeping in the park next to my bedroom tonight. There are no differences with magic.

What isn’t magic is that want to be different and very deep desire for praise, which often stings after. Particularly when we think about the planning and even the solicitation that takes place prior, and even here on the WWW. Writing here is weird in this way. It doesn’t feel like magic to want followers or even solicit money from people for this expression, this publication, and even this writing thing we do. That’s not a magical feeling to care about money, fame or followers.

What isn’t magic is getting on stage to play, sing or even read, only to be ridiculed and asked to step off because what is being said is too emotional, painful to hear, or even “offensive”. I am a perfectionist “on stage” and hidden within all this long story of “poetry”, there is a story about how I might somehow be OK to express…

All the above,

the killing of snails even

here in MAGICal_ifornia.

Where everyday

I see magic again…

and again and..

again, when?

I see “him”,

I see “her”.

I miss You, magic?


“Steph Bird

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