MIGRANT ZONE
“But,” she added, “a tribute that kills thousands of birds? Is that really
what we want?” – NY Times, 9.11.19
Little Alex was in love with them.
Would run out to the “woody
area” (floored with heavy
twisted vines) & note their thrum
of peregrine wing-calls; run back, report.
He was 20 when the Towers
fell. Now he’s in the painters’
guild – swings from scaffolds out
in Portland (surfaced a new public school
this summer). Everyone
knows someone so, dangling on
the perimeter of gravity (lead’s rule).
Edgar Brightman says, each body
is an etching of God’s mind –
that Personage who’s fond
of persons that we are (might be).
It is some Berryman-Osiris dream
of emerald Ireland, or
Mannahatta... out of mire-
bleared violets, one twin-beam
(ineffable, 4 miles up into night).
The glare attracts birds
(like glamorous words
of bright adhesive poem). Raven, kite...
– bad omens, harnessed by our own
self-heightening memorials.
Yet... all my trials,
Lord. DOVE LIBERATES LOVE’S MIGRANT ZONE.
9.11.19
New York Times, 9.11.19
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