I am Pablo bird,
bird of a single feather,
I fly in the clear shadows
and the confused light.
My wings are invisible,
my ears vibrate with sound
as I fly among trees
or underneath tombstone
like a sorrowing umbrella
or a naked sword,
formal as a bow,
or round like a grape.
I fly, unaware
in the hurt of the night. . .
I am the raging bird
in the quiet of the storm.
