for Mike Cannell 7
See Mike's very beautiful punctuation comic at his visoundtextpoem blog. It features a lovely Woodstocky series of bird-like commas.
Can you hear me? No? OK? Is the mic on? Can you hear me? No? How’s that? Is that worse? Better? How’s this? Can you hear this? Is that OK? You should hear this, the bird said in its poncho of branches, its brain a curled fist, wet with knowledge of flight. You should hear this, it said to the mitt of gravity. My bones, being hollow, or at least, nearly hollow, are toasters. Think thermal updrafts and early morning. Think padding down the stairs to breakfast and a destiny of feathers, of teeth made like feathers. Why isn’t all skin ‘skinny’? Why aren’t all sticks ‘sticky’? The hollow of the hand is the anatomical snuffbox, though the hand knows neither snuff nor tobacco. Into the emptiness of the garage, a car is nestled. We could dance together in canyons of yowling and through wispy Rococo clouds. A bird is a telephone between earth and beak. The earpiece mountains, the receiver sky. A message must take itself under its own wing if it is to fly.