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Poem



She flew out of a lark's mouth,
she was high in a cloudless sky.

I had a telescope in my mind
and an old VHS video recorder
for my left eye,
my right eye
had already been blinded
by self-winding hummingbirds.

Her apparel was transparent,
her hair was transparent,
her elfin ears were feathered
and those feathers were transparent.

I thought this is going to be hard to capture,
the telescope has had a foggy lens for ages,
and nobody has a VHS recorder anymore.

The skylark started to cough,
falling far on broken wings.

Meanwhile,
the transcendental and translucent
swiftly descended,
as smoothly
a hard-working Mary Madeliene
on a Dollar Store smoke break.

I was slipping forward through a moment
that was entirely transparent.

She dived into my mouth so damn quickly.
Hidden behind my trembling epiglottis,
she began to sing of our love,
a song that got louder and louder
until it was almost (actually) unbearable.

Even so, my outdated recording equipment
had grown far too transparent
to show anyone or provide any tangible evidence
of her invisible existence.
Nevertheless,
I continue to birdwatch on the moon.

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