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Putting the Bird Back in the Sky
- University of Iowa Press
- Chapter
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Putting the Bird Back in the Sky Here I am — of two minds: all eyes — all ears — for an echo. Driving into the sunset, who is not gold and mining? Who is not a piece of one, son-like in that way? I call you mine and I am yours. The tree lover becomes a tree, wooden and breathing in reverse, giving my livelihood away. Green and leafing canopy for the herd, I wear leaves with my skin, tear them off with my eyes. A bird flies over and I am birdbrained and precocious, flying before my time. I marry a bird, swallow it for its song, the vibrations singing I am. The bird and its flying, small-time creators, leave me with nothing to stake a life on. I have no choice. In the sun too much, charioteer and burning in my father’s shoes, I call the whistling air — 4 ...