Wednesday, January 5, 2011


Tied to a slab, the songbird’s heart
beats SOS to Gaia
while the model exposes the box to the crowd.

Gasps & moans blinker the lights.
Before she can close the box, the bird flies
back to an era before a net could fall.

A hunter sighs, the wind dies.
Posters are never made. A Christian settler
wrestles an ox-drawn plow.

Continents past, the women’s feet were tied
songbirds netted & eaten
barely dead, whole & raw.

Deer were tattooed totems.
Violent weather blistered the night
while the moon’s shaman sacrificed for stars.

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