A CERTAIN INNOCENCE Comments

Birds devour the garbage.
Gluttony makes them scramble,
contriving ambushes, machinations

which the soul has no part in.
Their wings go flap flap flap
in the black plastic. You stop.

Something makes you observe.
With aphorisms you sanctify
the reasons of those who despair.

What does poetry do?
It redeems and redeems and redeems
like those wings thrashing

the black plastic, flap flap flap.
You sanctify the reasons
of those who despair,

the anguishing implications
of the imagination, the world
going out like the light

in the room of childhood,
thrashing the sumptuous plastic,
all that you turned your back on

and that doesn't demand to exist.
What does poetry do?
It redeems certain types of things

through a certain type of words a certain
type of wings flap flap flap a certain type
of desperate reasons.
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