An old myth, of course, myths were never new
Signifying another of something, ephemeral on a wing
From a songless, flightless bird, a drab creature in the scene
The music underneath the sight, rising on the wind

An awkward fowl of nature, a bluish hobbled hen
Becoming the blossoming of what could, and what might have been
The flock of belief and hope – of begin again
Bird pecks away at the grit, unwanted truth and arsenic, unaware of what it is


The peacock roams alone, a forested knoll of the aviary
Seeking, apart from all the flying kinds, poisonous plants of the first garden’s bud
Elegant, sleek leaves of spice seduce, dripping honey hemlock seed
– would-be’s: to choke the crow and the dove, thorn to tear morning melody,
turning song to thickening, crimson, and scarlet stained blood
poison: round bird’s oxygen to breathe

With unknowing –
the peacock clears that mildewed earth of white oleander, acid aster, and toxic toned peonies
of all the pretty peril petals that shatter songbirds’ sole sounding
the cool color majestic only comes with the poisoned, bright thorny leaves
leaving the rest for flight and height, not eating an acrid plight, all becoming gauzy memory

With some knowing –
The artist roams the corridors of family, home, and surgery
school, temple, church, synagogue, state, and court, somehow crowded alone
rooms of the forever more, ghosts with the illusion known best as now and when
pass through cube rooms thinking the falsified concrete,
the strange bird amongst them, drinking their dying

An odd bird, the artist, colorless and dull, until it eats the poisons of passion, cruelty and all
Thedazzling bright of green-blue teal, speckled luminous bold gold explode

Then molt away, naked time gathered up and precious, prized,
the sick-making flora, deadly to the other birds, redone
the lovely feathers of once creeping vine demon decay, remade to an iridescent sum

The silken summer ends, spun again in dewy spinning spider web
The clinging ivy of sin is feasted on with famined, hungry haste
bristling leaf night comes early again with its amber glow and shadowless haze
chilled night reveals the stars as the fiery sun fades from sallow day

And gone away the flighted birds – off to a warmer place:
the finch, thrush, sparrow, cardinal, wobbler, eagle, hawk, and wren
The peacock’s feathers float on whispered gale, vein blood blue pouring out again
quills of an artist, bird becoming sacred pen.





couch touched up

4 Responses »

  1. Sit Calm, in Syndication

    Ninety-nine point nine nine percent of all couches on Earth are backed against a wall;

    Except on television…

    -Kimberly Laux

  2. Sit Calm, On Streaming Video

    Ninety-nine point nine nine percent of all couches on Earth are backed against a wall;

    Except on television…

    -Kimberly Laux

Leave a Reply