ManicDDaily

Photo by Tracy Grumach

Homage to Wallace Stevens and His Thirteen-Sided Bird

I.

One problem with the way I sometimes live in
this small-cubicled, cylindrical-chuted,
left-brained world is that
instead of finding thirteen ways
of looking at a blackbird, I get stuck
in one way of looking at thirteen blackbirds.

II.

Other times, like the thin men of Haddam, I look for golden
birds, and fail to enjoy the ebon sheen
of present wings, or worse, mistake them for the shadow
of my own equipage.

III.

O Wallace, Sage of Hartford–Connect(itcut) me
with nothing that is not there, and also
the nothing that is;
the path flown by the
blackbird, hard to miss, harder
still to trace.

IV.

I often revisit
regrets.
Blackbirds circle
the chaff-strewn field, cawing
when they land.

V.

“Should” is a word to which
no blackbird
pays much mind.

VI.

My mind, when sad,
ia like a tree in which
there are no
blackbirds.

VII.

Sometimes the heart takes flight, sighting, hawk-like,
the bright eye of an idea.
Other times the heart takes flight
simply because it has seen
a blackbird.

VIII.

A man and a woman are one.
A man, a woman and a blackbird
are a man, a woman and a blackbird.

IX.

No blackbird will ever
be baked into one
of my pies.

X.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
thank you.

XI.

When I want to see a blackbird, I just shut
my eyes.  It helps if there’s bright
sun.

XII.

In city rains, each droplet carries one small speck
of
blackbird.

XIII.

The tree trunks stretch limbs of jet black wing;
my heart expands and constricts at once;
in this, it is like
the blackbird.

The blackbird, wings beating, labors,
then soars; in this, it is like
my heart.

********************************

The above is a poem (or draft poem) inspired by the the beautiful photograph of  Tracy Grumbach, above, a dVerse Poets Pub Poetics prompt, and also, of course, “Thirteen Ways of Looking At A Blackbird” by the incomparable Wallace Stevens.  I am not sure if Tracy’s photograph is really of blackbirds–they look more like raptors to me–but the Stevens came to mind, so I used a bit of poetic and ornithologic license.

This is  also my draft poem written for the 7th day of National Poetry Month. 

Have a lovely holiday–Easter or Passover.  And thanks much for all your kind support.