Ode for the birds
after Liberace on The Muppet Show
o god, already?
all that damn early & unearthly chirping—
that cheeping chirruping chorus w/ such conviction.
all that facing the great, big burning wrecking-ball star,
bright-eyed, gaudy, & flashily feathered, like it was paradise.
all that burden, at the crack of dawn, in spring, on a Sunday?
i have been up all night long.
i AM sunburnt, nocturnal, dumb candelabrum
precociously holding on to lowly creatures’ warm, lithe waxes.
i’ve taken foully to higher education, turbulent uppers, & born airs,
cherishing unguarded things like the thought of heaven, flouting
gravity strings, flourishing in savage undulating skies,
& chanting mechanical mating-ritual orgy sounds
whilst taking brumous, good-luck seed
falling like ripe grand piano keys
from who the flock knows
i can't identify.
all come & go
right over my head.
maybe one day
i’ll be *that guy.
one day i’ll remodel my self
into that brilliant-diamond-dust-eye guy
w/ absolutely no sweet tooth for pungent fruit
loom loops & wake up right early to swallow down
plated sunny-side-up egg w/ forked chopsticks,
all arranged to sip on bitter sunlit percolations
over my Sunday-morning black & white
jazzy crossword puzzle, & i’ll listen out
to the tuned sirens of nature & classify
each sharp & flat duodene of birdnotes,
knowing all impeccably intricate
warbles by species name.
but i AM just
nom de plume babe
waiting for regurgitation.