bring the funk, the
masked man said, the camera
and your black box of
cryptic lenses
bring your list of birds, he said (
adjusting the light) the whole
endless tally, so that we might
weigh the years
bring more than you know
sort through it later
bring
he said, all you can carry of
drink, witness, abandon
drive north
sing
there are warblers here, in the spruce
blown beyond their sun, scattered
among dark-eyed juncos
they'll be dead by morning
No comments:
Post a Comment