spring daylight lingers
longer through the evening
we talk video games
coasting down hills
our bike lights blinking
by James Brush
spring daylight lingers
longer through the evening
we talk video games
coasting down hills
our bike lights blinking
the silver bass guitar hangs on the wall
a life preserver on a transport ship
I remember notes so low unplugged
the mic on Zoom & Google Classroom
couldn’t pick up La Grange, Ceremony,
endless runs through scales & permutations
our cats crossed keyboards and kids
passed waving through backgrounds
but when we show only heads & shoulders
we could be rock stars, could’ve been
dying, afloat and silent behind our screens
clutching life preservers just off camera
I strum grateful fingers over thick strings
a warm and friendly rumble fading as I leave
to go back to work, begin the long uncertain
swim back to newly strange familiar shores
alphabet—
a barn swallow’s loops
in paper sky
wind chime
the slow movement of clouds
between two trees
someone’s mask
crumpled in the field
pink primrose
the wind tugs
at leafing trees
how they dance
twisting
in the sky’s grip
a new day
traffic cones & trees
in the fog
so many leaves
high in this bare winter tree
cedar waxwings
the grackles opened
like gates in the trees
shadow birds, eyes glistening
you could almost imagine
these noisy shades
abandoning tangible birds,
parking lots and steel dumpsters
in their odyssey through
suburban woods,
clacking and creaking
like machines or clocks
ticking away the last
hoarse seconds of winter.
This is from my book Birds Nobody Loves. It seemed fitting to dig this one out today as we come around to another March. The 13th looms large here as that’s the day Texas started shutting down a year ago. I never would have imagined I’d have to be going to work in a face shield and an N95 a year later.
On another note, I’ve been tinkering with this old site and made new book landing pages that include videos, interviews, collaborations and related stuff. Putting it together, it was surprising to see where these birds have flown the past 9 years. Here’s the page for Birds.
Welcome, March.
second dose
winter rages deep
inside me