Grackles are fitting for New York, don't you think, the sound of the name
alone - like brokers going home after a bum day on the Exchange (yeah, quiet
you bet, but, if poked, more than ready to squawk).
Vanity forces me to say that I have a humming bird nest between the bare
forked branches on the pepper tree in front of my living room window. And
mama has two new baby hummers - their skinny dark beaks - when their mom is
not sitting on them - barely poked up over the side edges of the nest. I am
looking forward to some trial baby aerobatics.
This must be a good sign for my poems, right? I have not had a good run
(flight, hum, buzz) for a while!
I saw Alice Notley and her sons, Edmund and Anselm Berrigan read yesterday.
Now Alice, if we talk of poets and birds is definitely one of the most high
flying sopranos of death and sorrow. One of 'our best.