In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

185 Flickers Abandoned town on the border, I wait in tedious drilling noise. Flickers, my sister birds, try a hole. Grub-full and greedy, they ignore me. Fine, I say, just fine. When have those birds ever waited for me? What’s in that hole for me? It is hot while I stalk Flickers for feathers— red and yellow shafts I mean to collect for prayer fans. Hen-bodied, they would plummet so easily. It’s a pity they act so disappointed in love. They make their mates sob sad wet notes that move them to nest in dead wood. I watch, my gaze still, hot. Ah! Their wings burn right past me. One eyes me: the sun in a crushing black rock. She blots me bone dry, sends me dreaming through a red and yellow thirst— this prayer they will teach me. ...

Share