So I'll finish with some short poems
from a project I've been working on that I've
been calling Warblers.
And this is a procedural series.
I made certain rules for myself.
And the warblers, as you may know,
are those little species, little birds that migrate through
in the springtime.
And you don't have so many of them down here
but back East it's a flood that come through in the spring
and they come back in the winter.
And they fly from South America up into the Arctic and back.
Tiny, tiny birds with brilliant coloration
and incredible variety of song.
And they're, kind of, like--
it's like-- it's like high end birding
if you can spot warblers.
I'm not very good at it but I try.
So the idea was one, I have to meet it.
I have to add that bird to my life list.
It has to have a bit of the bird's color, two.
Three, it has to have a bit of its song in it.
Four, it has to have a bit of its behavior
or its foraging patterns, foraging habits, maybe where it
nests.
Five, it has to have a bit of nonsense.
Warblers are high in the trees, they give you
a crick in your neck, you know.
They're hard to spot.
And the thing I added, after the first couple of them,
was a third, fifth, sixth constraint was that they had
to have embedded in them-- actually
no the sixth one is they have to have a faraway place name
in them, where they come from.
And then seventh, would be they had
to have a word from a poet writing South
of the border and a word from a poet writing
North of the border.
They're feeding on language both North and South of the border.
And so putting these other poets into conversation.
So they go by, kind of, quickly.
You can just enjoy the sounds.
Don't blink.
"Black and White Warbler."
Scrapes on Lima.
Pointers down on insect toes.
Flicks zebra barks for juices, icies.
Eye sees icy heat.
Sees large gunmetal orca cleans up shady shades.