The Origin"
of what happened is not in language-
of this much I am certain.
Six degrees south, six east-
and you have it: the bird
with the blue feathers, the brown bird-
same white breasts, same scaly
ankles. The waves between us-
house light and transform motion
into the harboring of sounds in language.
Where there is newsprint
the fact of desire is turned from again-
and again. Just the sense
that what remains might well be held up-
later, as an ending.
Twice I have walked through this life-
once for nothing, once
for facts: fairy-shrimp in the vernal pool-
glassy-winged sharp-shooter
on the failing vines. Count me-
among the animals, their small
committed calls.-
Count me amon
of what happened is not in language-
of this much I am certain.
Six degrees south, six east-
and you have it: the bird
with the blue feathers, the brown bird-
same white breasts, same scaly
ankles. The waves between us-
house light and transform motion
into the harboring of sounds in language.
Where there is newsprint
the fact of desire is turned from again-
and again. Just the sense
that what remains might well be held up-
later, as an ending.
Twice I have walked through this life-
once for nothing, once
for facts: fairy-shrimp in the vernal pool-
glassy-winged sharp-shooter
on the failing vines. Count me-
among the animals, their small
committed calls.-
Count me amon
( Jane Mead )
www.QuoteSweet.com