Reading poems (and other literature) aloud is part of my daily life. I know that isn’t the case for most people. On occasion, I want to use this space to share that love and hopefully spread the good word, often of other poet’s work. I hope you enjoy this marvelous poem by an incredible poet that disappeared on a small island off the coast of Japan this year. This one has been ringing in my head since the day I first read it months ago.
The Invisible Birds of Central America
for Alicia
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The bird who creaks like a rusty playground swing
the bird who sharpens the knife the bird who blows
on the mouths of milk bottles the bird who bawls like a cat
like a cartoon baby the bird who rubs the wineglass
the bird who curlicues the bird who quacks like a duck
but is not a duck the bird who pinks on a jeweller’s hammer
They hide behind the sunlight scattered throughout the canopy
At the thud of your feet they fall thoughtful and quiet
coming to life again only when you have passed
Perhaps they are not multiple but one
a many-mooded trickster whose voice is rich
and infinitely various whose feathers
liquify the rainbow rippling scarlet
emerald indigo whose streaming tail
is rare as a comet’s a single glimpse of which
is all that you could wish for the one thing
missing to make your eyes at last feel full
to meet this wild need of yours for wonder
—Craig Arnold
(This poem first appeared in Poetry).
One day I ate lunch with Craig Arnold, and then two months later he disappeared. Last three lines are golden.
Wow, Max. That’s pretty amazing you got to meet him. People really seemed to love him. I’ve only found his work just recently and feel sad not to have discovered it earlier. It’s sad that he died so young, but it seems he dissapeared doing something that he loved, which can’t be said for most people.