Bird Men | Ruth Asch | The Piltdown Review

Bird Men

Bird Men

I

he sits under the nightingale tree

waiting to catch

those notes which are heavy

enough to fall

into a resin bowl

pierces them

with steel needle

to make them real

strings them on

decimated vines

to garland

anyone who asks him

II

a lark is

unpicking his spirit

grasping it by

thread ends at his ear

drawing it like floss

up his throat and out the window

to drop it drifting on a cloud

we find him there

each day

eyes a little darker

frayed smile

hanging from one cheek  

          

               

More Remarkable Finds
Visions

Visions

White peacock with tail of cloud and flame sweeps before us through blue wilderness.
River Salt

River Salt

The river running through my mouth bypassed my heart, the tongue dried up.
July 1964

July 1964

She holds a flower, listening only to the small petals. They’ve all come outside to see the purple.

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