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Bird is the Word

by David Hill

In a black feathered cloak,
he swaggers in cuspated cowboy boots,
a jimson weed jammed in his beak.

“So tell me bird,
what’s the word?”

He pulls out his harp
and starts to blow.

“Actualization? “

I keeps me no shiny things,
that’s a myth a your makin’.


I never been ta Disneyland
and gots no hankerin’ ta go.


Well dad, some days ya prey
and some days ya scavenge.

“Boil it down, bird, what’s the word?
Spiritualization? Transformation?
Visualization? A meaningful relation?”

He coughs up a bone pellet,
expectorates, then predicates…

No dad,
simply acceptance.


Author's Note: my unworthy tribute to The Trashmen

Posted on 11/29/2012
Copyright © 2024 David Hill

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 11/30/12 at 03:37 PM

Listening to that crazy song again, I realize that it's many times all in the presentation (Surfin' Bird). Without their nutty voice antics I doubt this one would have flown. ;) I enjoyed this dialogue with the black feather cloaked bird - all the "ations" and "ates" words add an elevated tone somehow, the bone pellet coughed up is just a hoot. Thanks for the philosophical mixed with some good humor.

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