The BOOKPRESS | March 1999 |
owl
owl dark bird bird of gloom
of death
argued with leashed put out
burns as it will
I have not seen you now for
hide away but come flowing and clacking
your death's head oh rise
look down with your
trembles
from mere incidence into
—Mary Oliver (In West Wind: Poems
and Prose Poems)
make your little appearance now
messenger reminder
that can't be stopped
like a red fire but
owl
too long a time don't
the slap of your wings
out of the thick and shaggy pines
when you
golden eyes how everything
then settles
the lush of meaning.
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