The canary

Darkness evaporates ,sitting on a cedar limb, sensing
the radiance of the sun through the reflection
of the sky, the canary, never running out of songs-
incommunicable in themselves, as if cosmos made
melodious, out of its several distinct calls in its repertoire,
selects as an inward itch, the pleasure

call, to celebrate the day, celebrated down
the millennia, in its original antediluvian rhythmic
trill. It lifts its wings as if to draw more air
into its lungs, its breast swells, its throat trembles as it
flings song-notes into the air as if from a bird throated
land from within, swaying and echoing with the ancient

sea's voice. It is only half bird now and the other half
is song. listening, without deciphering the song ,I can feel
it hard arrested for all eternity, that moment, how unlike
the maestro's fiddle string, harp, drum-poor copy .Already
from afar lewd dogs sniff out the rotting corpses within
the reek of the instruments.

Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 99 times
Written on 2022-02-15 at 08:35

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text

Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Very deep concept here.
I like the poem but don't necessarily agree the bird doesn't know what it is singing (as I interpret you to say.) Many of those who come to eat the seeds we scatter for them in the winter, are so tiny, so light, so frail maybe. The eat in silence, ever on the lookout for our cats. Bless 'em.