lots of folks have evil twitter fun, I’m no different

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virgin voyeurs of earth

out the kitchen window
frenetic tenants
little prodigious noise makers
mustering their gumption
marshaling silken feathers
willing to tap the sky
drum wing beats on blues wind
a small hole
window to the world
a movie trailer sans surround sound
until this moment
and here I am cursing under my breath
gotta get on that damn elliptical
freakin’ pushups
then chauffeur
a carload of young men
shop the mall with a teenager
I want to draw, have to write
shit
the birdlets
damn, look at them
eyeing the planet for the first time
virgin voyeurs of earth
number one
the leap
fluttering onto the pooped deck
hopping like a freak club dancer
next
halfway out
shit, I’m wasting time
but how often
do you bear witness
to life’s entrance
I glue my antsy feet
watching
c’mon two
I’m egging her on
there she goes
crap
lands on the glass table
a venerable Rockefeller skater
those twig legs glide on sandy ice
whoosh
she’s gone
hop, skip, jumped onto a nearby tree
the little crapper on the pooped deck follows her lead
two new babies shaking up the leafy world
the third
hanging with its mouth agape crying for more food
time check
okay, I watched
I satiated my mother guilt observing the little miracle
I know I can write about this later, good for something
no more action coming from the hole
show is over
two newbies out to rock terra firma
I wonder how the fourth would have grown
a few days ago
I picked up a little broken body off the table top
she was not a skater
maybe a dreamer
well, I don’t want to think about this anymore
there is an elliptical that must be dealt with
pushups to be cursed through
a giant son and equally large friends to bring places
a daughter to shop with
and
there is a small window
a place
a baby might look through
before
crashing the world party

red-crested woodpecker

red-crested woodpecker

songs of silences

deformed putty pink

robbed of warm breath

contorted sweet necks
tar bubble eyes bulging

frail unfeathered waxy torn

foiled unsung tiny raptors

never will gush
broad kite wings against the wind

meander upon the thermals

dead
before
winter’s white bone chanced a kill
stuffed down bright 
spring’s dark bosom

stalks cradled
strapped with dried fall grass

gentle summer kisses will not carry
overlapping notes 
sung in threes

new harmonies in pubescent throats

echoing from fresh limb to sailing cloud

undeveloped triplets all

delicate melodies
small and quieted

in the driveway
sad little chicks

stilled
 baby birds
in her songs of silences
nature candidly reminds us

she is both
judge and jury
warblerI wish this piece wasn’t here or anywhere else – but I hope it serves as a eulogy
for those baby birds – may they fly in eternal peace

art created last year for an illustrated project

bird in a box store

like a bird in a box store
flying above the steel trees
plastic plants in the far back
protected by strange stiff men in long pointed hats
and sickening grins
if you alighted on a nearby polished snowblower
you’d see the gnomes twinkling eyes
maybe a little happiness there
painted in by foreign hands
confused as you are now
there is expanse to fly
bountiful food on the floor
pools of little ponds
temperate climate
infinite grey to ease those once vigilant eyes
but no elegant altitude
no cryptic nimbus
no aqua-blue current 
must the grey below become black
to inspire you beyond
the sliding sheets of smudged glass

born you were to fly
but not in a box store
warblerwas in Lowe’s today and heard the little sparrows on the light fixtures

HoNest

nested internal thoughts
resistant to the bearer’s weight
honesty to ourselves each time
form healthy embryos
protected by truth

lies crack under pressure
less than honorable thoughts
eventually break our souls
eagleeagle done a few months ago, Tombow water color marker, Prisma pencil and a touch of white acrylic

We nearly lost the bald eagle in the 1960’s. DDT weakened shells to the point of cutting down this raptor population from 500,000 strong to a scant 1,000. Through conservation programs and legal protection the bald eagle has made a miraculous return to the US landscape. DDT was banned in 1972.
Fun Fact: The bald eagle is the only eagle unique to North America

past echoes

There is an oddness in the distance
faceless voices
disappearing 
between the rush of cars
Years ago, it would have been a herd of cattle

running for the lunch bell
on the road
, past my house

I sit on the front porch
perched on a yellow plastic Adirondack chair
drinking wine from a tumbler
pretending it’s a brown bag
and fantasizing I don’t have to work

Those faraway voices 
echo now
like dairy farmers’ spirits
loading Bessie’s milk onto Old Erie railroad cars
bound for the city

Retired sounds 
I imagine floating up
to the sun that once fed the cows golden grass

The birds, the flitty ones
with bright yellow bellies like my chair
flutter by my porch

saying their good nights or goodbyes
depending on how cold
this early autumn eve turns

warbler

Tweetzilla: The Evil Blue Raptor

Innocent in direction
I was simply walking and conversing with a dear friend
we were discussing Existentialism
peppering our profound dialogue with
philosophical musings on Impressionism
we fancied ourselves brutally brilliant
beneath the miles of cadence, I was vastly superior
my dear friend had labeled, Albert Pinkham Ryder an Impressionist
calling out, Moonlight Marine, 1870
I was courteous, as always, letting it pass that the reclusive artist, Ryder
was a student of Expressionism
and that’s when the sky darkened
a horrid thing circling above
twitter
monstrously proportioned and diabolically blue with a ‘mawful’ of rotting flesh
its breath alone could expunge lower Manhattan
this consuming creature, was screeching numbers in succession
I spied symbols seared into its flesh, several feet above its talons
– the width of sewer pipes
the markings appeared to be random hashtags and a number
# # # 140
I quickly deduced it was counting my words
but it wasn’t just counting my words
the bastard beast
was counting each letter I spoke
what cruel thing was upon me
this damnable blue bird
if I uttered more characters than the tolerated amount
it would surely kill me
140, 140, 140…
# HELP!
tweetzillaBluebell, as I affectionately call this fellow was created a few years ago. I recently ‘tweeted’ for the  first time. I was a tad ‘stupified’ by Twitter’s character counter, as I attempted to be succinct. Adding insult to injury – Twitter told me I had to be more clever – too many characters… and I thought, aha, there’s fun to be had here. You know, it’s quite difficult writing something meaningful when it comes from a place of less character…140, 140, 140… 😉

about birds

Ah, we female birds
so plain and dull
sitting upon our nests
obliged to keep our eggs warm
and what do you do
fly off with your freshly preened
brilliant red plumage
to seduce another dull female
while we colorless squatters
do not complain
understanding the urge to wander
is in your nature
so we dust-feathered, will teach troops of earnest chicks
and you will be crowned master of ceremony
for a parade of dull females
red-crested woodpeckerI was just light-hearting the prose up a bit – no offense to many a good man.  🙂
Red-crested woodpecker done with watercolor marker and Prisma pencil a few weeks ago

Sails of Feather

a boat floating on sunshine
its sails fashioned from feather
the shape was light blue, like the urgent eyes of a young Husky
beneath the hull
the sun’s rays rippled like ocean water
casting a scarlet sheen
the sea rose and fell like soft ice cream spilling into a Dixie cup
and there I sat
my legs crossed, humming along when a salty old albatross named Virgil alighted
Virgil was unwilling to hum as he was in a bad bird mood
he told me my vessel was destined to sink
unless I gifted my ship’s feathered sails to him
it was the only way to save us both
I didn’t want sinking to be my last memory
using golden hemp rope clipped at the bow
I tied the plumed sails to Virgil’s grey stooped shoulders
the old albatross twisted his head to preen his new sailing wings
Virgil nodded his craggy head in approval
I climbed aboard his great avian back, my legs crossing like a Gyptian Princess.
The air sung between my painted toes
Virgil’s old voice rang out like it might have when his feathers were white
I woke
and remembered
the albatross is in peril
Virgil does need help
woodcraneMay you dream for all bird species continued survival

The above image is that of an American Woodstork and like the albatross they are also endangered, recently the woodstork’s survival has been downgraded to threatened in some areas. He was drawn a few weeks ago with marker and paint

19 of 22 albatross species have been threatened with extinction. Albatross populations initially declined due to harvesting for feathers.Today, albatrosses are threatened by introduced species as well.