Some day birds are going to shut up,
hamsters to fill their pouches with helium
and fly away. Birds will eat the flesh of
their saviors. Yeah, some day. Itinerant peddlers
will try to sell sugar owls, five cents
each one, seven cents for a couple.
Sugar owls and sleep and their gods and goddesses
oozing their iridescent brains out of the ears and nostrils,
could you give all this any credit?
They saunter on warped bridges,
dwell in rain-soaked shanties,
kiss vultures and bless mosquitoes.
Praise the beasts that will never save our souls,
and small rocky islands where they abide.