ORIOLE
By
the lonely wall of sunset and the blue voids
Of
nothing but nothingness ahead
(Flying chain of flowers,
floating peach petals),
Many
break the agreements they’ve made.
Our
troubles do not start with birth.
Not
one famous battle sent its fighters back from the dead.
No
statesman, just an idler, the air grows cold
As
ashes of gold in a chestnut flame.
Our
leaders are as harsh as those before them.
If
one carries a burden on his back
And
nonetheless rides in a carriage,
He
thereby encourages robbers to draw near.
My
pants become soaked with truth
Among
the flowers that have forgotten
Everything
they wanted to say.
Duration
is not ours to know.
Gong
of light shivers through the empty wood.
The
oriole’s song hasn’t changed, only my heart.
15
October 2011
Spoken word
version from Venerable Madtown Hall,
copyright © 2013 by Jim Cohn.
Video clip
from The Making of Venerable Madtown
Hall, copyright © 2013 by Jim Cohn.