Maveric

[Guest guest]

Among the birds born or brought, let loose

from cages due to February aviary

romance refused,

disabused of notional ideas of love-light striking...

 

tonight the bird sang solitary soliloquy, sang

like night on this mountain tuning down

to the pitchfork sounds

of double-breasted redwood trees,

tampered with, just with,

and just before, just before

the diurnal diatee of lesser light's gone gray-tonal

in the tonnage of earth's moaning,

aumed anglerfish deep-sea deaf

to the darkness, and yes, like autumn leaves

letting go of the tree that birthed them,

there is an alive deathfulness to the darkness...

 

a drum strike of silence as we gather 'round the bowl

and fire, higher here in the year of This... Lordlessness.

 

Hearing and Seeing has gone to air,

clear ashen storm-rain, streaked grayer than the stones

moonlight, starlight and sun bathed

beneath my bedroom window...

 

exactly opened out

by the wending water washing mountains down

their ribbled ravines, rich in decay

and pebbled slants,

because of canyons, because of

the stars tumbled forth, because

of spotted salamander tailtips, curled in...

 

I am

crumbled from the upper ledge

of light. Head-Fringe of Sahasrara-glowedness.

 

I am inside day and I am inside night --

and all that falls between the two,

that's all of me,

that's all of you.

 

Mountain-bred bird or a bird bought

in the drought years

of a lover's heart,

this art of laughter, this craft of idle chatter,

it's but the rattle-boned beauty of a perfect storm

unleashing the level-codes of light,

unbeveling the beveled edge of I,

undreaming the glass etchings erased

from a clear pool's

mirror'd moon reflection...

 

of a non-sighting of an anonymous night-bird

breaking throat-crystal in the dark...

and singing about nothing,

and not least, in particular.

 

Peculiar. Hmmm.

 

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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