Silvery & Brittle
does that special lay-down-and-die thing.
Everyone needs to get away now and then to a place
where the refrigerator hums in a different tone than
the one back home. Get relaxed in a place
where the body feels slack because it is contingent
upon an imminent death delivering a real sense of purpose
to the morning. The sun hits the breast of a male House Finch
and for an instant it looks like its been lit-pink from within.
The skittishness of birds makes me anxious, I do not find them
relaxing to watch in the least. I'm establishing a sense
of the texture of things through touch.
Tonight, I’ll serve Montaigne's Venetian turpentine wafer
with sweet syrup on a silver spoon.
What are you not willing to feel?