A Poem for My Grandfather
I wrote in 2012 and found today in some notes
- •what would it be like to hear a bird cry through the low violet of impending dawn and not feel cocaine? i must have once known. i watched through swiss binoculars. i awoke to mr. coffee. i wore a large camouflage jacket and my eyes felt both nauseated and comforted by the great black weight.
- •he brought me here to watch the birds, they fought as if they once were dinosaurs, their power now weathered, bearing feet too slight for betrayal, even in the softest ash.
- •the blind is still there but we have all succumbed. i hang three darling birdhouses on my porch but they remain just so, honest as a stopped clock. he is buried with men who lived and fought like him. he is dinosaur and i am just bird but perhaps i will cease to know the difference.