I sit
at smooth-planed oak,
mid-morning light
wandering through
bowed glass,
& listen —
to the curl of his voice
& the River’s sigh,
& the small birds’
close observations;
& listening,
I weep.
— C.Birde, 1/22
Jouissance — A Poem
Month: January 2022
Archie Leach — A Dream
Who are you to me,
Mister Leach?
That you glide
from nostalgia’s
silver screen?
Stride languidly
through Dream plains
of wild Psyche?
Debonair in style,
urbane of gesture,
smooth-suited
& Brylcreemed
to characteristic
perfection;
utterly untouched
by Time’s pitiless
transit
Coy-smile flirtation
Determinedly
searching for…
questioning…
Dream within dream,
thrice calling.
Ever & always welcome,
dear Mister Leach –
please, do visit again.
Still, waking curiosity
compels:
Who are you to me?
— C.Birde, 1/22
Lullaby — An Image
“Your small cousins
have composed
a new lullaby…”
She shifted
beneath
snowy blankets.
“Let’s sing…
Together…”
— C.Birde, 1/22
Tongues — A Poem
Blue Jay speaks
in voice of Crow
& Red Tail Hawk…
Vivid notes of lapis,
flinty hematite,
& earthy jasper drift
in downward mix
& tuck themselves
in ear & thoughts
of self-assessment
My own song I’ve
disguised to keep
a thorny Peace…
Once circumscribed
to silence
Fated to wither in
the nest
No More.
The words of Love
fly from my tongue
plumed, bright-
feathered,
& in full voice.
— C.Birde, 1/22
Primeval — A Dream
Trees primeval upward soar,
exceed the vast sky’s vault
Thunderous in size
Forthright
Unbent
They filter thrumming veins
of green-gold, dusted light
Press palms to rough-furred
sorrel bark while standing
ankle-deep in moss & slow-
uncurling ferns & hear –
like a breath against the skull –
soft inquiry:
“Moon or Sword?
What will you place in
my heartwood?
Which will be your gift
of me?”
— C.Birde, 1/22
Her Dreaming — An Image
“I dream…
of deep green mosses,
ouroboros,
& bright motes
of light…”
At rest between
thresholds,
she sighed through
sleep’s keyhole.
“I dream
of
y o u.”
— C.Birde, 1/22
Perspective — A Poem
Distance reveals
the web’s complexity
of form –
those anchors of support,
the strands that spiral
in & down;
Grants the space to see
the pattern of the weave –
the warp & weft of whys,
wherefores that catch
upon proximity.
Grateful of perspective –
room to feel & breathe;
Anxiety of being held
forever fixed in place,
subtracted.
— C.Birde, 1/22
North Star — A Dream
On smooth blacktop
before the barricade,
he waits –
I, beside him –
as the clerk
(severe in appearance
& attitude)
returns again…
Third trip to & from
the store,
he attempts, now,
to bend influence
toward the piece
he has selected
& presents.
No.
Enough of this.
We leave together.
For I possess not one,
but two North Stars –
the first resides
in my right ear;
the other rests
(unworn)
on green velvet,
in a small chest of wood.
“You, my love,” I say,
& guide him through
the empty lot,
away,
“will have the second.”
— C.Birde, 1/22
Hush… — An Image
“Hush, now…”
She pulled the blanket
up beneath
her chin
with a whisper.
“I’m dreaming…”
— C.Birde, 1/22
Absence — A Poem
Trees,
dark-stroked
against a sky obscured
& damply blotted,
lift expectant limbs…
Bare
Exposed
Stripped
to elemental truth.
I stand beneath…
In search of self
& soul
& all that’s sacred
amongst knotted roots
& last’s year’s fallen
leaves.
— C.Birde, 1/22
Nightjars & Damselflies 