Monday, June 18, 2007

To the Superb Lyrebird, that Cover Band of the Australian Bush

Mountebank dancer and manic mimic,
Is there a bush ruckus your syrinx can’t clone?
Bubbly corkpops and glassclinks at picnics;
Kookaburra’s cackle when its cover is blown;
Alarm panic, siren wail, chainsaw drone;
Motor drive’s whirr and black aperture’s click
As it captures your likeness; trigger-snick
And barrel blast of the shot that missed home;
Honey-eaters' chitter and moth-wings’ flutter;
Snoring koalas and colicky babies;
The lunatic howl of a dingo with rabies;
Wind-bang stutter of a torn-loose shutter;
All the ring tones of a cellular phone—
No song you can’t sing, but no song your own.


Brenda Schmidt said...

Mountebank dancer! I like. Very nice poem on the tongue. I hope you post a reading of it when you're feeling better.

Brenda Schmidt said...

Interesting. When I read the poem aloud this morning, I read it much faster than that, for whatever reason. I don't tend to read fast and the punctuation should have reigned me in, but I think the "Bubbly corkpops and glassclinks at picnics" got me going. It was a challenge to see if I could get it out quickly and clearly. The faster I went the more fun it was. Maybe I should drink less coffee...