*
*
dead deer
roadside rot
flies hum
thin May sun
*
bird alights
oiled black plumes
disposer
of carcasses
*
jagged wings
patrol aloft
eyes sharp sharp
scent, beak
humble
feathered toiler
bare crinkled head
putrid breath
*
recognize
its rightful place
beloved of God
black bird of dark doings
recycler of life
blessed necessity
sweeps circles
cloud high
*
*
I’m not a big fan of starlings. They are invaders who displace our native birds. Starlings are messy, noisy, and travel in huge flocks. You may have seen their amoeba-like acrobatics in the sky. For the starlings’ takeover on the American continent, we can blame Eugene Schieffelin, a pharmaceutical manufacturer, who imported sixty starlings from Europe and released them in Central Park on March 6, 1890.
Schieffelin was a great admirer of Shakespeare, and he also loved birds. He, along with other members of the American Acclimatization Society, thought it would be a great idea to bring all the birds mentioned in Shakespeare’s poems and plays to live in the New World. Big mistake.
The starlings liked Central Park. In fact, they liked most of North America. Other imports, such as nightingales and skylarks, hadn’t fared well. But the starlings survived and multiplied. The birds have a beak that allows them to pry for food in the soil, even during the winter. Thus, they don’t have to migrate, and since they’ve never left for warmer climes, the starlings have the first pick of the best nesting places.
Which brings me to the pair of starlings who decided that the best place for their nest was the aluminum tube that vents the hot air from my clothes dryer. The outlet for this tube is located on the top floor of this house. The circular opening was covered by a small plastic box with a flap. No deterrent for these birds.
I first noticed the situation when I was making my bed one morning. There was a skittering, scratching noise coming from the tube leading out of the dryer. “Oh, no,” I thought. “More mice.” When I banged on the tube, the creature sounds stopped, but some sort of something fell down inside the tube.
This procedure continued periodically, whenever I was home and heard the noises. I’d bang, the noise would stop, and stuff inside the pipe would tinkle and rattle further down.
One time when I shook the tube, a bird flew out and hovered in front of my window. We glared at each other for several seconds. “Starlings!” I muttered and notified the landlord.
To replace the outside vent, it was necessary to climb a tall ladder to the second story of the house. The landlord brought his ladder over, as well as a new slatted vent that looked a bit like a cage. Before installing the new vent, he cleaned out the tube. The birds had brought in a large pile of pine needles that was mixed in with some gray dryer lint. Among the pine needles was one blue egg.
I collected all the nesting material, marveling at the amount of pine needles the birds had brought in. I suspected that every time I banged on the tube, their nest-in-progress fell apart, so they had to start over. When I dumped the nest material in the woods, I did feel a small pang of regret, especially about the egg that wouldn’t hatch after all the birds’ hard work. Still, I didn’t feel sorry for long. They were starlings, after all.
*
*
young female
learned meekness early
heard
you may think whatever you like
but you may not say it
let
her opinions die unformed
sat
silent in AP English while
boys expounded
mute
overridden, interrupted, ignored
feared
love withheld
this meek one
inherited meek
not the earth
confidence
self-worth
only
only
meek
*
*
for Michelle
oh, how you wept
telling how your mother
refused to accept
your love for girls
*
she sent you away
for conversion therapy
electroshock and solitary
she prayed for you each day
*
you left Texas after high school
moved to the Coast
broken-hearted, the cruel
years trained you tough
*
surgeons fixed your heart
implanted a pig’s part
you fixed your direction
to heal your soul’s separation
*
*
Governments of all earth’s countries
declare an international holiday
no work for three hours
while everyone dances
joy overflows up into the Higher Realms
*
Krishna does the merengue with Guadalupe
Hafiz twists again (like he did last summer)
Mary Magdalene teaches Yeshua how to salsa
The twelve disciples do the Lindy hop
*
Waltz, hasapiko, polka, hora, kazatski, hula
sing, sway, swing, tap,
grudges and disagreements dissipate
like fog in sunshine, forgotten
rhythmic feet alter memory and time
*
*
mine took charge
she ran the preschool office
kept the accounts, did taxes
organized the family social life
cooked fabulous meals for guests
dressed in a sari
when no one else did,
(unless you were from India)
*
she told me about birth,
demonstrating with a rubber band
she gave me her opinion on
contraceptive methods
she discouraged me from cheerleading
encouraged me to learn guitar
sent me off to summer school at college
instead of summer camp
*
she was emotionally distant
deferred to my father’s needs
never stopped smoking
during breast cancer
shriveled up and passed away
while passing on her wanderlust,
passion for Durrell and forties swing
her eyebrows
and her pen
*
*
first the plates slip
a crack, a rattle
reliable solid turns traitor
shivers beneath feet
*
helpless on soil, asphalt, gravel
we walk above dreaming trust
shudders or rolls or splits
blizzards and hurricanes warn
but not these, sudden
*
hearts leap and flutter
a moment aware, vulnerable
tiny creatures rearrange the crust
unmindful of the roiling, boiling
center below
*
*
left side
his wedding suit, charcoal pinstripe
slate blue business suit
navy jacket, no matching slacks
one tweed jacket, brown and pine green
*
These suits, the dress shoes,
the waterproof rain pants, the silk
handkerchiefs, long underwear
What use have they now,
now his work is past,
his history misty and dissolving
*
He breathes and moves
dressed in sweatpants, t-shirts
every garment labeled,
all stuffed in a narrow cabinet
next to a bed that goes up or down
the window there doesn’t open
*
He won’t be in this house again
yet his clothes reside in the closet
insist on his absence with questions
that trap me between there and here
pressed dark and stifled
*
*
Talia lived in my dorm during our freshman year at college. She was small of body with a light brown pixie cut and owl glasses. Talia was an art student. That October, she was all fired up about her midterm assignment. She had decided to make a plaster cast of a torso to serve as the base of her project. She talked our friend, Jerry, into providing the torso.
On a hot, southern California afternoon, Jerry lay down on the cement patio outside the dorm. Talia smeared Vaseline across his chest and shoulders. She mixed up a bag of plaster of Paris in a bucket. Then she spread the white goop evenly from his collarbone to his navel, making sure the plaster was an inch thick.
The scene gathered a few spectators. We watched as Talia tested the solidity of the plaster every few minutes. It was taking a lot longer than she’d anticipated for the plaster to harden. The sun moved along its inevitable path. Jerry’s feet were in shadow. Then his legs. Then the sunlight ceased to shine on the patio. Beneath Jerry, the cement cooled rapidly.
Someone threw a towel over Jerry’s legs for warmth. It didn’t help much. He was starting to shiver under the layer of damp plaster. We all cheered when Talia tapped on the plaster mold, and it emitted a solid thunk! thunk! At last, the plaster was hard.
Talia gripped the edges of the form on each side of Jerry’s ribs. She lifted it a fraction of a centimeter.
Jerry screamed.
His chest hair and some of the hair under his arms were trapped in the hardened plaster. Talia and the bystanders discussed what to do while Jerry lay, pale and grim, on the cold cement. It was decided to cut Jerry’s hair away from the plaster.
Three coeds produced nail scissors. Talia, her roommate, and Jerry’s boyfriend attempted to slide the scissors between Jerry’s skin and the plaster. This technique proved to be painful as well as tedious and slow. Tears leaked from Jerry’s eyes.
When Jerry’s shivers expanded into quakes, it became obvious to Talia, the helpers, and the audience that saving Jerry was more important than saving the plaster cast. Two runners were dispatched to the cafeteria to bring back large bowls, knives, and forks.
It took another hour or more to break up the plaster using the utensils and the warm water in the bowls. Jerry bore the procedure with eyes pinched shut.
Released at last from the plaster cocoon, Jerry stood up, stiff and splotched with white crumbs. He and his partner hurried away toward their dorm and hot showers.
Talia slumped onto a plastic patio chair, tears of frustration and fatigue on her cheeks.
“What am I going to do for a project now?” she moaned. After a pause, she brightened. “I guess I could use a female torso.” Talia looked around with raised, questioning eyebrows at the dorm-mates who remained on the patio.
“Oh, no! No way!” each one of us said, wide-eyed. We held out our hands as if stopping the idea in the air. In a moment, Talia was left alone on the shadowed patio.
*
*
The universe was a Mobius strip,
a ribbon of stars and galaxies,
turning in on its own darkness
then rolling into the light
of its expanding creation.
*
The sideways eight of eternity
ever evolving into more of itself
hummed like a church organ,
deep, resonant, the OM
of expanding creation
*
The universe coiled around itself,
intoning its glory and delight in
every particle, every sentient being,
a sailing song of infinite love for
its ever-expanding creation
Tangled Magic 