If the Holy Spirit is bird, it lives in all of us. Your bird shaped soul, a bird shaped hole, in the hollow universe. Can we go further. Where birds can carry us. Over the edges, over, more. Advertisements
In the summer heat, everything changes shape, and the trees bending in the sun turn green, the greenest greens we’ve ever seen (it seems) until that moment (green gleans). Green gleans in the eyes of the sparrows flying one after the other (perfectly) into the trees’ green to feed on seeds and berries. Counted seven. […]
One gets so restless. One feels too safe. One gets so whiny. What does one require? Borne with tunnels blasted through us, bending to illuminate the void. What will it be? Every year is another conclusion. Every month. Cocktails? Lovers? An addiction? Something to distract the pulling (and the pulling) of the void within. It […]
On the branches of the bush-tree, sparrows, and on the wires, turtle doves, singing our sorrows. Sweetness follows, as a mallard swallows small fish and the pearls of despair within them. We don’t need those. In the sky the house-martins fly exceptionally, defying the laws of physics, pausing, spinning, dropping, rising, crying for love, for […]
Bird by bird You reappear And it is clear Not only do you exist And you persevere You are the king of light And of timing And of beautiful songs to wax the heart into feeling your immensity.
For the record, a diving, crying house martin came at this common kestrel and scared it off. A glorious moment.
Earlier today at a cafe I was street watching and there was a big black poodle, like the one Gertrude Stein had, called Basket, dragging a bearded guy on a skateboard. I was amused, but then less so when I noticed he was pulling on a leash, not a harness.