Invisible Birds

I Said Again, I Said…by naomi

Naomi — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 22:28:31 +0000

The answer without the equation
The wind does not choke
On the earth’s thirst

My mouth tastes like stomach
Tongue dry as a bee on a pin
It’s not all yours, this

None of it is

aside

Nathan — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 09:56:27 +0000

It’s been a while. I’m far away. I’ve changed some things. Stay posted.

a note on methodology

Nathan — Fri, 08 Jun 2007 20:23:56 +0000

Where works have multiple authors cited, unless otherwise noted, they are written either as exquisite corpses or per-line. Each author writes one line, then passes the paper around the circle. The poem ends when it ends. There is no revision of the others’ lines.

The Snake

Naomi — Sat, 02 Jun 2007 00:57:13 +0000

Lifting his head
To taste the dark–
Multifoliate.

The rose is shrunken
Inward on the stem.
The grass is wet.

Over and over
I tell myself:
Selfishness is
The first great sin.

The Opossum

Naomi — Sat, 02 Jun 2007 00:55:10 +0000

Fingers laced and locked
Like the teeth of a cat
She stares at the door.

Hour by hour
In the blind dark
The opossum hangs
From the dogwood.

The Centipede

Naomi — Thu, 31 May 2007 05:07:07 +0000

A proliferance of joints
Clicking like clock gears
Spinning in slow motion,
Fast as a cat.

An assemblage of legs
Ending in pinpricks
Or snowflakes.

Flat and Point…by naomi and alyssa m.

Naomi — Tue, 22 May 2007 02:56:53 +0000

Beneath the flat rock, a nest
Of dust
Bugs,
Hairs,
Small rocks.

My hair and your hands, moving
almost in time. Hair flows like
daylight through a crack in the wall.
And your hands are—-angrily
Hands do not flow but they try to.
They want to gracefully maneuver
Through heaviness, but are heavy
Themselves. Hardened hearts
Flicker like small lights in a child’s
toy spaceship, that navigates the
Depthless skies alone.

The Beginning…by alyssa m. and naomi

Naomi — Tue, 22 May 2007 02:52:24 +0000

Sun
The sun orange in a yellow
Orange sky, the sky
Swelling and fading to the light.
The faceless day
Resists time. . Time as it exists
In space, motionless and pale
Against blue bones, cold
In unyielding flesh, the softness

Almost shivers. The coy spring
deceives and retreats well into April.
It is late May. What should be gone
Lingers like one lost. I am leading
No one through the desert, though

I cry like Jesus Christ, I ache
Like Moses, and I sigh
Like water.

The Time I Flew (by Sam R, Naomi, Nathan, and Alyssa)

Naomi — Thu, 17 May 2007 03:42:03 +0000

My feet are not there
and my ankles are lonely,
cut off at the joints, the fine threads
dangling uselessly, flicking

The tops of trees, if there
were trees to flick
birds into the sky
(they do not fly themselves)

They are a lonely shape
in vain. They must be pushed
from the nest to fall on their faces.

But we all have the same face.
It is blue and it is cold. It is
the night face at the window.
And it is the same face inside
and looking out.

The Shapes of Birds (list exercise)

Naomi — Wed, 16 May 2007 02:56:43 +0000

I was standing at the edge of the water.
I was walking by the water and the water stopped.
I was the water and I stopped to catch my breath.

There were seven herons on the shore.
There were black birds rising from the trees.
There were feathers on the water, grey and brown.

It was lifting from the rocks and branches.
It was a missing voice over the trees.
It was a monstrous shape against the sky.

I looked across the water to the other side.
I looked at my hands and they were white.
I looked at you and you were looking down.