This poem is taken from PN Review 128, Volume 25 Number 6, July - August 1999.
The Redbird Hexagon1 Redbird
It waylaid my eye
On the loose,
As it obscurely scaled
The staff of a Venetian blind.
Now behind the open slats,
Beyond the windowpane,
Busy among the cedar forks
A figure was distinct:
Beyond the books, their spines,
Outside, and south,
A throat, a thorax. -
To judge
By the silhouette,
It should be red. It could be.
Then how is presence felt?
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue'.
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 285 issues containing over 11,500 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews, why not subscribe to the website today?
