Aviary

August 2, 2009

So solemn—

The sparrow does not sing to (the) Ra(t), it seeks

His shadow and his substance. It sings

His death. So (you too) stand in the shadows and wait,

For when the sun declines, so does His power—

Like an aviary of suffering,

Frantic flying, everything trapped. A card

That says ‘assassin’ comes from (the word) ‘hashish’,

Not admonitory just a plan fact.

*

The next panel—

…as though

Each death, unique, each act a whisper,

Can measure what is not, can measure

One by one, the death of one’s health—

(Or so they tell me, these flowing birds,

As though they knew…)

A puzzle, but there is a story here:

(The silence is…)

(The space is…)

…as to the crows, they know

The true extent to which they will

Be sacrificed, as if that will

Universalize itself in thought.

As if…

*

(A note to myself:

Look up ‘stochastic processes’,

And ‘artificial paradise’

As Baudelaire conceived it)—

And finally this fragment:

(Yet…)

The sky in reflection can possess

Only air and clouds and rain—

And yet, it remains whispering…

*

I write another note to myself: to please,

Please look at (Fred) Sandback’s work, look at

The line and the language of line, how he

Resolves the two, hypocrite lecteur—

Then: (string is unemotional. But this is not!)

Speak as they please, what does the mountain care?

It’s time to leave the cage, to stand outside

The aviary (and burn the bodies)

And take…take one last, long look inside…

As if we could. As the assassin strikes.

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