Cold and quiet. Two phoebes are refurbishing the nest under the springhouse eaves, going to the stream and returning with beaks full of mud.
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Cold and quiet. Two phoebes are refurbishing the nest under the springhouse eaves, going to the stream and returning with beaks full of mud.
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Always a Story
Always a story
beneath the cold and quiet—
Always a nest being refurbished
under the springhouse eaves—
Always the smell of mud at the edges,
the window finally come unstuck—
Always a gnarl in the fabric
where the fibers knotted—
Always a smooth new trail
tracked around the village of scars
~ Luisa A. Igloria
03 20 2011
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as if this were forever,
this nest of being,
this lush mudhole,
this stench of holy nothingness,
this lodestone of dissolution:
but in the dazzling darkness
below the subsoil’s sill,
wafers of soot scintillate still —
O immaculate lodestar
in the night sky, black hole,
womb of solitude and sorrow