Fourteen Ways of Looking
- If the black eye of a bluebird moves, does this mean that the axis of the earth’s rotation remains stable?
- People have a phenomenal ability to concoct justifications to do whatever they want to do. Strange logic for fulfilment of their desires. Unlike a bird of any color.
- A man and a woman are no longer one. Even with a black bird.
- The earth’s crust is buoyant, floating on a magma sea. How many lost species will capsize our fragile boat? Imagine life without a blackbird.
- Biscayne, Blaine, Jacobsville, Marshall, Ordovician, Rush Springs, Seymour. Life-giving aquifers. A raven drinks from a spring on the desert highland.
- A bird as black as death turns in circles above the earth. It cannot escape from the thermals as they spin.
- The baseball diamond was a forlorn, emerald space in the summer dry spell. No one can play on the fenced grass. The blackbirds peck for insects on bare ground.
- I found a black Condor feather near the breeding compound at the Los Angeles Zoo. It shone almost silver in the asphalt haze.
- Can you misjudge sincerely? The earth’s climate is changing. The air is black with cawing birds. Ask that question of our children. Our grandchildren.
- Incoming storms turn the sea graphite and the desert crimson. The green pines are filled with beetles; the trees are dying. The cedar tree has lost its black bird.
- Our waters are poisoned. Dead birds litter the shores.
- The geckos on my wall hunt for insects that fly towards the patio lights, yellow bodies camouflaged in yellow light. Their eyes are as black as a bluebird’s.
- Today, here, the wind from the west is pungent with the smell of rotting garbage. We cough. Wheeze. A tear leaks. A bird’s black eye is permanently shrouded.
- I was hiking with a friend and we found a dead body under a crumbling desert cliff. He died hiking alone. A black vulture soared high overhead.