I'll post some new full fledged stuff up soon but here's another quick something from my notebook. I have a funny story to post and also a bit of a rant/concert review. I was on a little hiatus from bloggy world and I need to catch up on everyone's stuff. Oh, and this is Pete, the bird who lives in our apartment and drinks all the Orangina.
The Bird
I hear an unmistakable bird in this library
but don’t see it in the rafters
or in between the double panes
neither find it in the bird books
nor the librarian’s wide open purse
that is full like a nest and ready.
No, the bird is not asleep in the fireplace
or looking for worms in the card catalog under W,
not even nestled in the arms of the volunteer
putting encyclopedias back home.
I can’t find it in the dream I was having,
drooling on the blonde wood table
while the katty corner Dominican lady
gave me unmistakable stink eye.
We can all see there is no bird between her obscene breasts.
It’s not in the hair of the pretty Russian girl,
there is no bird in the cough of the child downstairs.
Neither is there a bird I think.
Only some wish I had, some want I magicked up.
Because if there is a bird,
I want it to be in the shelves,
having chipped its way into a book on Redwoods,
nested in the detritus of words.
So when I am ready to read it, that bird will startle itself
right into my mouth. Down my throat.
And sing for me, make for me a second heart.
Trill away what I need trilled away.
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7 comments:
That, my friend, is effing brilliant.
Nothing less than sophisticatedly charming. Last seven lines, to be the nasty skip in the record, are brilliant. I believe I may print this one and hang it on my fridge. Just magically done.
James, you astound me with your exceptional use of words. You, good sir, have rare talent.
i have a bird in my apartment that drinks all the orangina (and the vernor's, too)...but her name is ashley.
nice to be reading james poems again...this one was strong.
incidentally, i am corn fused about a bon iver comment you made on Darren's blog. new materials? Fie! sez I.
That is really really really really cool!!!
Thanks, dudes.
Welcome back, Joseph. I'm glad you're in the land of Vernor's. I grew up with that bittersweet nectar.
Lavender and Sunny, I'm glad you like it so much. I think I haven't really labeled as much more than a journal entry because it doesn't really fit in my thesis. Or maybe it does. I don't know yet.
Liz, I'm glad it inspired a poem for you.
Sarah, as always, gracias.
Do you remember the Meijer that we used to go to as kids? The one by Nama's? I'm sure you remember that there are birds all over that place. One of the last times I was there, two birds were perching on the pasta aisle shelves--waiting for people to get far enough away that they could go down on the floor. It is a good thing that I am too short to comfortably reach things on the top shelf. The idea of bird poop on my store-bought food is a little more than I can take. I have a feeling that those birds no longer miss the sun and free air. Do they even remember it? Were they born in the store and have never experienced it?
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