Another Day, Another Dolor
Saturday, January 18, 2014
THE UNFEATHERED BIRD
Without ever raising
the question of circles, preferring the greater gravity of descent, the ease of
downhill progress, what are we?
Less than fledgling,
novices at our gorilla shape.
The anchor, in other
words, going to its place, slips down the incline; the bones thicken in scale,
from bird to man and down. A mood tumbles into a thing, a warbler, amplified to
tuba.
It’s
the mechanism of not flying. We go along with our bones, ideas that companion a
growing weight, sinkers racing to the bottom.
The
axeblade drives into the wood. Like the rain, we fall, tieclips, and
matchbooks, and Chapsticks, and paperclips, and staples, and bottlecaps.
(Published in Abraxas, 1987)
posted by Michael Andre # 3:41 AM 
Archives
July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 January 2006 April 2006 May 2006 January 2007 July 2007 February 2008 April 2008 May 2008 February 2009 March 2009 November 2009 December 2009 November 2012 January 2014
