Tag Archive | eros

conversations with birds: the swan drifts

(the swan drifts over the reflection of real ruins around which an architect has arranged lake and trees:)

I am not pure enough to believe in
love, its archaic masquerade.  I am
not pure enough to believe its silken
cords won’t fray but

Is there a love otherwise made?  Of stone?
Its architecture, yes, toppled in weeds,
though an entablature on slipped columns
remains to frame the inorderable sky.

I could think:  Marking a grave.  Or
Its austere grace!  What time cracks falls away
to reveal a more essential beauty.

The ruins memorialize themselves.
Two might still walk among them hand in hand.

I write the word…

(Odalisque?   Tightens her robe, brushes a feather from her cheek, settles down to clean sheets and

a bottle of ink.   She writes the word Bird.)

my friend. the black swan.

(feathers swirl the feather bed’s sacked black swan trumpets arches his long neck squalls

mindless bird!  great beast!

shakes his feathers grooms sails black feathered from the high black room.)

my new digs

I have taken up residence in an obsidian tower.

It has no chinks for the intrepid to grip.

It is an obelisk.

I am the odalisque who lives in the obelisk.

I converse with birds.

just moved in

 

 

 

 

 

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