Trapped In A Gorge

(i)

A single feather
doesn't fly a bird,
but a wing does
with a lifting core.

In the chamber
spinning the wheels
and chaining flaps
lies the sparrow's engine.

Let the bulldozer
in a feather speak
to vane and rachis,

and the nozzle
of a breeze lighter
than a tit will fly you.

Thin fibers like
downy barbs build
the nozzle-wing
that lifts you across
a storm-waved ocean.

(ii)

From the shaking cabin
of wing flaps
spun by unfolding threads
with no sailor,

as the ship of your body
springs a leakage,

let a bustard's fiber
from its dropping feathers
be the wind to fly you

with a frigate bird's wings
higher than the clouds,
as you're trapped
in knotted weaves
pulling you back to a gorge

to count feathers
that cannot fly you
with a condor's wingspan.