One day, a hawk flew into the warehouse.
Everyone worked slower after they heard
and asked when they passed each other,
"have you seen the hawk?"
There's a pair of wild eyes watching
from the iron beams in the ceiling,
and the whole building becomes new.
You watch the ceiling for the hawk.
When I finally saw it, I had almost
stopped looking for it. But I looked up
once more and saw it perched
on the red rafter before it dove down.
It sailed like a wraith and I felt
my chemistry coil up in my flesh
and go sour when it wouldn't take hold.
Then the hawk flew back up and disappeared.
I'm back to writing a poem every day, whether they stink or not.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
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2006
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March
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- Safe from the Storm
- On Learning of the Evolution/Creationism Debate Ta...
- The Hawk
- Bad Tea
- Sexual Frustration
- Inspiration
- Apology to My Daughter
- Fragile
- Hunger
- Leaving the Woods Behind
- Coming Down (As requested by Aurora)
- This is not a poem (2)
- Evidence
- The Cello Player
- Turning Point
- Elegy for the Dragon
- A Mystery
- Aging
- Packing for the Hike
- Vigilance
- Seven Cups of Pu-erh, Gong Fu Style
- Defending
- Marketing Death
- A Father Reads the Parenting Websites
- Breakfast
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March
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2 comments:
Hawks are my favorite bird!! Without "wild eyes" we melt into steel and glass. Like this Eric!!
I love the feeling of transformation brought by the hawk. This is great stuff!
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