Oyster Boy Review 14  
  Winter 2001
 
 
 
 
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Poetry


The Birds Cannot Disappear

George Kalamaras


Green in the shape of a fluid vowel.

                *

A radiowave that eases out of the thorax of a stunted voice.

                *

Monks at a lamasery creating heat-waves around their naked bodies lying in snow.

                *

Friendly advice, below, on wood grains from cabbages of sound.

                *

A golden beak protruding as chains from a cruel blood-face.

                *

Hamlet's hair curling the bird's ruby neck.

                *

To be a bird man in emerald ponds attacking a floating pear.

                *

To be a beloved tree without ground, cast from its garden sound.

                *

To be a blossoming lull luff in Andean spring.

                *

The condor has traded its wings for water.

                *

The orange, for tanager stew.

                *

Oh, to fly like a fig scrunched through cholic gill-fire.

                *

To melt snow with coils of chordal thought.

                *

To say with conviction, I am a split pear, I am a split pear.

                *

And ask a floating oak for sound advice.

                *

Green, the vowel of every schraping ground.


—for Max Ernst