Avian Translation
I’ve always wanted to speak
to the smaller birds, so
I’ve done a lot of weird whistling
Sometimes a little birdie cocks her head
and tries to see if I’m a threat or a bird benevolent,
but I’m neither a mate nor predator, just
a conversationalist
So I whistle something which means
“give tomatoes to Owls, like Caesar.”
And she says, “Huh, what? And
for a Human you don’t look so bad
even though you have no feathers.
Why is it that you can’t fly?
It’s so easy.”
And I said, “Why is it that
you can’t speak and write novels.”
“Well, then,” it said, “have you written one lately?”
And I said, “Um, no…”
And it said in a way that I think it meant kindly that
I was a birdbrain.
Ode to Sloopy
Oh my neighborhood is blessed,
so sweet the streets, but yet
I mourn where you were,
where I saw you down the other road:
down and out town where I never
could seem to be for long
forlorn and never understanding
your faithful path; I watched
the caresses paved on
bumpy roads, your skips
on tangled streets, without
any proper signs but caution
and sorrow, and
I could have loved you
so easily if you were in
my class at school, and
my illegal notes would have said
I am not fulfilled with
just my toys. Joyce dear dream,
with the pony tail and smile,
could you play with silly me like
you’ve always loved me
on the streets of true love.
Sometimes I think
you’ve known me
But now that
I’ve grown
now that I moan
can I give you my map
to find me, though there’ve
been so many years?
There’s a song and I say Hello
Joyce babe, oh
you’ve known the song so
don’t fall off the mountain;
hang on to an edge,
hang on to a love to be
that should have been.
Oh baby I don’t know why
your Daddy put you down
and why you stayed with cockroaches
in your sorry part of town
Oh baby, can you cross the border,
and don’t be down,
’cause there’d be no disorder
if you’d wait for me on the corner,
only wait for me where
we would have loved the sky
on a street of love, and where
we could have walked forever, but
now I’ll call you a cab into heaven
’cause I know there’s a cliff
where everyone dis’s you
But baby don’t fall;
I’ve got the rockin’ gear
and the pinions of a mountain climb
I know you’re on a cliff, but
hang on
I will hoist you up to God, and
maybe He will share you with me
because I want to save you, and
my rescue ropes are of joy. We will
cross the border
and climb a better mountain
beyond outrageous stones
those devils throw
How can they know
your kind heart
if they’d be mocking birds.
Let me sing to you of
sweet rescue, because
don’t we both need to
climb to a heaven we need
so desperately
I think we are good
to hang on for love
because never would I
want you to be anywhere
but on my street if
you love me, or
even if you don’t.
Foamy Dream
There is an ocean at dawn
that skirts the night tides
crashing swirls and sea birds
There is a froth to morning dreams.
I’ve been staring at foam in my coffee
remembering the ocean starring in ending rain
a conjured dream of frothy us, stars
beneath an oceanic drink of dawn
It was
coffee boiling hot for
the exigency of a dream, and
when from the freezer I plunged
an ice berg scoop of ice cream in it
the titanic foam made giggle bubbles
that speak of the dream when
you laughed your dainty blessing,
so pretty your voice, your smile in
the swirl of your skirt like a current
or maybe I just imagine such formality
like the majestic blue of the ocean at sunrise
because you know I don’t mind your bikini too,
love the virtues of shallow laughter-water,
know that the splash and the play
do pull tides from the deep imagination
I can be hot
to be cool
and we sat on the white sand
under the silly white umbrella we had borrowed
not imagining rain on our white beach, where we thought
if only sunshine would be in the heart then joy rises
for sunrise at the beach is
a glistening foam
silver crests
deep blues
an orange glow
and ice cream foam
and I dream of you
with fireworks in the sky
because…
maybe I imagine love
blue and foamy
silvery crested
[EDIT: Amazon changed the links]