project2501: (pattern)
the bright birds whirl their incomprehensible patterns through the unquestioning sky,
& for a moment everything is louder, and hurts: the white birds, the blue sky, the yearning in your own heart.
they wheel around you as the world wheels around you, semaphore-flashes in the too-bright sun,
flinging words to each other in short, sharp cries -- a language you will never understand.

the white birds spin their patterns through the sky, and you are caught, half-remembering.
but they are gone between one breath and the next, between memory and forgetting,
the bright fragments scattered in all directions, the poem dissolving into sky.

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project2501

December 2010

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