small_bird_dreams
ovenbird
I
try
to
catch
my
dreams
by
the
tail
but
they
are
twitchy
and
evasive.
I
catch
only
this
:
I'm
standing
on
the
path
leading
from
the
road
to
my
grandmother's
house
and
then
...
I'm
standing
on
the
deck
of
a
research
vessel
looking
out
over
the
violence
of
the
Antarctic
ocean
.
I'm
grasping
at
the
details
but
coming
up
with
nothing
and
I'm
frustrated
.
So
I'm
left
with
only
the
two
images
bouncing
around
in
my
head
.
I
am
an
explorer
navigating
a
deadly
subconscious
sea
.
I
am
hoping
for
penguins
but
getting
only
the
rise
and
fall
of
waves
large
enough
to
swallow
me
in
one
bite
.
I
am
a
wayfarer
and
I
am
the
incarnation
of
my
matrilineal
heritage
.
My
grandmother
looks
out
from
her
front
porch
as
I
look
over
the
ocean
.
That's
all
there
is
:
the
souls
of
my
ancestors
and
water
and
ice
and
my
hands
gripping
the
railing.
250409
...
ovenbird
I
dream
that
I
am
making
a
woodblock print depicting
the
growth
rings
of
trees
.
I
am
carving
into
the
surface
of
the
block
with
knives
sharp
as
scalpels,
turning
the
wood
into
what
it
already
is
;
its
history
etched
into
its
surface
one
year
at
a
time
,
one
concentric
circle
after
another
.
When
I
wake
I
am
pared
down
to
heartwood
.
250413
...
ovenbird
I'm
standing
in
the
center
of
Willistead
Park
facing
a
firing squad.
All
I
can
think
about
is
what
a
nice
day
it
is
.
The
trees
are
blooming,
the
sky
is
bluer
than
blue
.
I
can
see
the
intersection
of
two
paths
where
four
of
us
used
to
sit
to
play
euchre.
It
doesn't
seem
fair
to
die
on
such
a
perfect
day
.
But
I
guess
from
the
vantage
point
of
imminent imposed
death
,
almost
any
day
could
contain
at
least
the
glimmer
of
perfection
.
250414
...
raze
a
black
-capped chickadee
with
whom
i
share
no
history
flies
to
me
and
eats
from
the
cradle
of
my
surest
hand
.
i
spend
the
rest
of
the
dream
trying
and
failing
to
find
her
again
.
it
isn't
until
i
wake_up
that
i
come
to
understand
she's
a
symbol
for
life
itself
,
carrying
all
of
its
darkness
and
light
in
the
feathers
that
grant
her
the
grace
and
gift
of
flight
.
250415
...
ovenbird
I
am
woken
from
a
dream
in
which
I'm
trying
to
escape
a
vampire
by
the
distinct
call
of
a
black
-capped chickadee.
Symbolic
and
concrete
worlds
collide.
The
chickadee's
voice
IS
life
calling
--it calls
me
out
of
nightmares
into
a
dew
soaked
dawn
.
250415
what's it to you?
who
go
blather
from
