Monday, April 1, 2013

April Fools Day

Feeling suitably empty
and slight as a hungry
sparrow this morning, I leaned
and slurped a spare cup of
coffee at the open kitchen window looking
hard out at the crisp April sky

With a windy 
phenomenlogical
cry, I felt it
try to yolk me back
to my I 
as it practically begged 
some skinny poet in me to describe 
with decadence its somewhat 
more imaginative features

Suddenly, its tender ships of of tangled 
clouds were like myriad-masters drifting slowly 
through some lusty blue yonder or another;
and its flagrant flocks of brassy geese got 
recast as heedless v's cutting swatches
of spacetime ripples through endless 
low-hanging ponds or whatever and 
frightening all the scant small fidgety 
robins, who, worst of all, started darting 
and hopping in swing-time in almost 
no time like Charlie Parker or--


But then, 
I remembered 
that I thought I 
saw it said in a 
book or some such
that I read that I ought 
to just sit for as long
as I could and concentrate, 
single-mindedly, on the 
pointlessness of empty 
space, and the emptiness 
of sky, and all that 
sort of nothing stuff
for as long as I possibly 
mindfully could; 
so I shut 
the window, closed 
my eyes, and 
thought I would try it,

so I breathed in,

and I sighed,

and again,

and on
it went,

and I
kept on
trying 
until the 
only 
sound I 
heard 
outside 
was 
the only 
thing 
that could 
possibly 
share my 
shiny 
single-mind:


One stubborn motherfucking woodpecker.

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