Friday, February 26, 2016

February 26, 2016



Bird is the word

As the Trashmen collect my thoughts 
The scavengers dine on what's left of reason. 
Some pinpoint of light, of thought, projects what's 
migrating from a single name through all seasons.
Ibises on a pot shard broken with Egrets 
Flock beyond number from a single egg.
Hans Christian Andersen's emperor frets
that the gem-crusted effigy begs
the truth and beauty from nature.
While Mr Klee laughs a constellation:
a twittering machine of info raptors
that sweep across the internet nation
To keep the students of Yeats from napping
While the Gyres gimble in the wabe's soul trapping.

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