"Bridget bird, again"

 

 

 

 

 

"Poetry explores the constitution of public space as much as already representing already formed constituencies; risks its audience as often as assumes it; refuses to speak for anyone as much as fronting for a self, group, people, or species." (Charles Bernstein)

 

        

Go on, twitter like all the sweet majolica-eyed,

    bits of wing fluffed off

whenever you're in another nasty state (all you like!);

     make a big deal

 

     for wings open, closed,

or mottled with the dew of morn, it's extinction

     or flight for you;

ready to die or fly, the choice is way up there

       

Or hop to it, ward off winds or lie a-tremble

       'cause cloud innards

will ululate quietly and rifle rain on you & yours

     (rain on the blue-nosed):

 

Who made you blue, anyways?  tall bobble head?

      -tight-backed in a rage-

and who's looking at you, and just as sweet a hop along

     & claw grip as ever?-

 

Or just be there, to eat at my feet, and apple-eyed

     (spiky crest, & tall!)

bristling and true as squirrel tail & black chubby bee:

     heat of the perambulate bee

 

or stay put in the nest having the green leaves & hairs,

     and clovers (for a tease!),

and looking about ready to swell, as due to heat

     World's a big seed-cake,

 

or a strip of shade under my crab apple tree, or what

     and I'm the one,

either of two actually who look at you, alone in my room

     or  beside your tree—

 

one that feels dizzying's the best way for birds to be!

     And look, I repeat

silly legs that look for silliness, white fragility showing

      are just the way to be