Another Bird Song
May sun river reflection a
perceived bright silver angle w/ which the
chickadee sings his Thursday A.M. melody going
on bird nerve & the primitive hunger of sound.
The notion of sound as gift cottonwood down
downed in May on the ground under the dream head pillow so
Stuck in its insistence to follow its plan to mitigate this state we created. A
tree a perch for early brunch surely this
bobbing bird has a tender
vibrato & a word for Thursday but until Slaughter relents it's only nine cheerful notes.
11.08.01 Three days after the split I revert to a diet of cake & meat.
07.17.03 My binoculars scan the coastal mountains then WHOA! A GIANT EAR!
07.23.03 We hit a little bump in the driveway Ma says: Ow Pinga Jesus!
03.09.04 It's a long swim
11.15.06 Words Rebecca should not say in debate class: gangster, Jew and douchebag.
01.29.07 In Texas a new center opens for the proud, the few, the limbless.
Frida smiles and winks at the camera. Frida
after surrealism after two abortions after 1925
accident and iconic unibrow Arreguin sees as blackbird wings
I think after Diego and machismo in black yellow red tan dress I
sick she says shot by her lover in color never wincing as far as
I can see conditioning an image eternal for sainthood. I
am not sick 35 operations 2 abortions surrounded by skulls, penthidine, morphene, not sick says she
Frida, let your hair down.
Frida, dont look at me like that.
Frida, leave Diego. Do not walk, bolt.
Frida, wont you steal the masculine hat of the accident
you called Diego and bury it behind Casa Azul?
Frida in living color.
Frida, festooned in Mexican reds
& blacks & tans, golds, yellows
y rosados y blanco rosas.
Frida, why was surrealism
a Mexican breakfast
while the feet of the wounded
table bleed and you paint
tendrils on your 1940
image and only the skull
Frida, who let the spider
monkey loose to carry on
& live carnal dreams
alongside deer, turtle doves,
parrots una familia
sustituta con el elefante
y la paloma, Diego y tu?
Dime Frida, de que color
es la flor
en que tus cenizas
esparcidas en la selva
Frida, tell me, what is the color
of the flower
your jungle scattered ashes
peN for Subtext 6.6.07