Michigan Quarterly Review, April 1st, 2006
Lithe shadow, organic jukebox, sly note-taker,
twirling your vocal cords about
like the rainbowy ribbons of a Maypole,
what do you love? do you love? do you love?
I've let the birdfeeder level drop down,
but you stay on, enraptured, giddy.
Look: I'm not the type to call a poem song
or waste ink on what a bird might "think."
But this one! When he pauses, tips his
fragile, drab tail at the sky, pauses,
then lets fly his fly his fly his-hey!
He has reasons. He's selective,
doesn't juxtapose the same way
each time around. He seems to swivel
with the wind from song to song
(though th...
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