The Lord God Bird
It is said that we make our own reality.
Well then, mine is full of wasps and wolves
And the Lord God Bird and the darning needle
That knits all things seen and felt
Such as old man's beard pallid in the White Mountains in August,
Or things that I have maybe seen
Like that legless lizard glimpsed well beyond its range when turning
over rocks,
Or things that I have neither seen nor heard such as the Lord God
bird
From the realm of the mourning dove cooing her lost cousin.
All knitted into a seamless whole by the darning needle
So that things come flapping from one realm into another
Until they come into the realm of what is now sure
Where they dissolve into the universal acid
Of the here except for those things that are really here
All along like the Lord God Bird
In the bright realm of its Pileated cousin.
Copyright © Paul Decelles May 25, 2005
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