in rainbeat edges
i have arrived
too late
to tell
though you sound
so close
to now
the cries come
from
a place-
traced back to
branches
piled/broken
with no open
needing/mouths
in the morning
fresh
still/nested
keeping closed
silent
knowledge
narrowed down to
this cluster
of three-
still too high
to see.
8 thoughts on "in rainbeat edges"
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Not sure I follow this but I dig it anyway.
thanks… working title ‘out of eggs’
i’ve been trying to zero in on a hawk’s nest for several years..
getting closer..
I love the subtle sway on the page.
So much here, sir!
The use of tercets (broken at the close), the forward slashes, the syllabels per line, etc etc. careful attention to those details and I’m here for it!
I did have to read a couple times before the “narrative” clicked for me but that, too, supports the themes. Love it, man!
Syllables. Damn phone
I think your new title helps illluminate the poem. It’s a great poem too.
Under the eave on the east
Face of the house, swallow’s nest
With five fledglings ready to fly
This goes on as years go by
What a great title and unfolding of your quest.