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

42 D o l p h y ’ s A v i a r y We watched Baghdad’s skyline ignite, arms & legs entwined as white phosphorus washed over our bedroom, the sounds of war turned down to a sigh. It was one of those nights we couldn’t let go of each other, a midwestern storm pressing panes ’til they trembled in their sashes. Eric Dolphy scored the firmament splitting to bedrock, as the wind spoke tongues we tried to answer. At first, we were inside muted chords, inside an orgasm of secrets, & then cried out, Are those birds? Midnight streetlights yellowed the snow— a fleeting ghost battalion cremated in the bony cages of tanks in sand dunes. Dolphy said, Birds have notes between our notes. . . . I could see them among oak rafters & beams, beyond the burning cold, melodious in cobweb & soot. Like false angels up there in a war of electrical wires & bat skeletons caked with excrement, we in winding sheets of desire as their unbearable songs startled us down. ...

Share