And which may have been a god, too tired of being an ibis.
He was eating the bugs in the stone wall. He looked at me as if
I were mortal! He has flown away now, become a loop of
Film, changed back into bird, and if I can return to studying
Transitive verbs again,
I'll
know meaning doesn't mean
Meaning, it simply minds it, watches itself walk out the door,
Looks long after itself wavering, changing its soul with
Every step, each frame of mind frozen, then broken up,
Reforming every second into being.
ANDREW McCORD
Blue Hills
Jar Rllpak Roy
Down a dirt track three
Miles above the power plant
The river whispers, in its iron
Vein, over the narrow, nearly
Silent valley while elephants make
Their vegetarian way through the forest.
The powerstation's postmaster says
An elephant is an ideal guest:
"He is worshipped, but he is wished away."
The herd stays across the valley
In the trees. A fat , endearingly
Flawed moon rises as the day
