Treasure Island

Doyen Lingua

(1991 - still breathing / Oregon)

Birdhouse


A matchbox home.
The treehouse has no sales tax.
The one-bedroom with a view.
Its thatch rug pricking thorns
and blanket keeping warm.
Surrounded by the watching eyes of Bast.
Does she bear the ankh or a scepter?

A tabatière musique with a whistling Bubo.
Its precarious vertical mast,
and finger-sized ring.
Embedded with a robin stone.
A fallen patch of sky.

The river crypt, falling west
like the setting sun.
Prospering, with worms a plenty in
the afterlife.

The drag queen dad
with mascara lines
peeks at the hatchway.
His blue feather coat
and talented nails
secures tumbler with thunder-cloud down.

The evil eye brings Kamikaze
the blue mime, does karaoke
Worried about the change-maker
picking from this little purse.

This manifest destiny can only last for forty days.
The ground-spaghetti, morning steams.
To be free of the world on fragile wings.
How the worms wriggle and writhe.

A new Odyssey across an ocean Styx.
The queen returns from his wash basin.
The Cuckoo has stolen a lifetime.
The cat plucks up another jewel.

Submitted: Thursday, February 06, 2014

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  • Daniel Brick (6/23/2014 1:51:00 AM)

    The cat's appearance at the very end made me shiver. This poem is so thoroughly, I'd even say triumphantly the world of birds - a CAT as the last image! I admit I can't follow the poetic argument because you use such precise vocabulary which always a good thing - if the reader has a glossary or dict'y nearby. The language is fused - which means it goes beyond the (merely) metaphorical - like the language of Hart Crane. There are four vivid images that make up the last stanza but try as I might I could not discover their meaning or drift. (Report) Reply

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