The Bird Who Almost Lived Forever
Posted by tlynn [ tlynnbene AT qwest DOT net ]; on May 02, 2006 at 13:04:10:
the fire is kindled
by the waning shape of
the man in the moon
taking leave all too soon
of the heedless shrew
man creates the fire then
leaves it unattended
though our soul is warmed by heat
boys should never play with matches
yet the peacock is primed, so
within the beautiful soapstone
primary colors are created
in flames pure and brilliant
having taken forever to light
will this purity last forever
but random atoms of evolution
snake down a crooked branch
and burning desires flare:
I want I want I want
give me give me give more
nourishment and warmth and
never stop suckling or
my mouth will be free to
form the words 101 times:
I’m hungry mama
(sticky note to self:
the earth stokes
as the air tokes
but still
the flames choke, so
timers remind us to check
the temperature: too hot too cold
sets off the bird and that is why
with the rocket man gone
the fireman is on speed dial)
in the featherless world
hoping to teach new dogs old tricks
Professor Piper blows his horn but
too little is too soft
too much too fast
right and wrong overlap so
his tune won’t last because
as life will always have it
pedigreed animals share the warmth
while mutts burn in the flames
and (as some have discovered)
no true warmth is found in the
temporary salvation of
dog biscuits delivered FEDex
the price is too high
and the treats unfulfilling
and in between the
lines steered by jackals
and guided by baboons
we traveled to and from
on a twisted circus train
until that final day when
caught out in the open
the deer was blindly struck
and the vehicle impounded
almost every nestling knows this lesson:
by honing the right feathers
and knowing how to land
the hawks find stale crumbs
through the parent portal hell
but the homing pigeon is lost
along with her winged man
the only two left out
the only two left in
and out of all
the heart cries out to the mind and
the mind shrieks whispers
into the soul, eclipsed
by an alien land who
in the unlit vacuum of space
still hears nothing at all
alone, Polly dines on venison
and wines
with time on their claws
Mrs. Cat T and the canary
share a candle-litter meal
spread elegantly upon an olive branch
lit with arsenic-laced flambeau
because someone once agreed
that presentation is everything
during hunting season
the crows, craving flesh,
cried wolf
and the wolf, seeking peace,
drew blood:
this boy is dehydrated
why he’s only been gone an hour, we say
how can destruction spread so fast
but this is no slow burn
praying for deliverance
solely in escape
our past is resurrected
as we try to set it straight by
re-kindling fetal embers
fanned with love
disguised as hate
as the elk performs is final trick
on the trampoline in the yard
though I sign to all others
I speak clearly to the bird
because even through the haze of smoke
pouring forth from the stove
only the bird proves he is listening
by repeating what I say:
flight 2006 may be slightly delayed
although I am in the right place
at the right time
my mind-calendar
is on the wrong day so
the fire ban went unnoticed and
the house went up in flames
suckled by the black hole
the house imploded
leaving me alone upon
the fire-proof foundation
cradling the dead bird
who almost lived forever
having left the fire unchecked
the boy is finally still
in silent accord
for the very first time
they refused to rise from the ashes
what else can I do but
await the delivery of
new Lincoln logs to
reconstruct a future that
in the swollen bellies of
naïve and eager rabbits
growing fat on roots
will soon begin again
in a distant future
light years behind
the shadow of his sun
the moon-man never knew
when the flames died down
until upon re-entry in
past light years ahead when
his log would reflect upon
the new stars bred in
the smoke-filled dreams
of those who never slept