Birdwatching at Wembley.

The beast in the coliseum snorts
and roars, paws the floor, stamps
its feet: no hope now

to catch a sight of the rare
Minnesotan Minstrel Jew. But din
from hell don’t scare him none: he flits

into the white hot maelstrom
of light and sound. I focus
on his tangled crest, note

the unusual adult plumage: long
black preacher’s coat, white
shirt at sleeve and throat, akimbo

stance on Kabuki mask. Listen:
from earth to high heaven, that
harsh hillbilly snarl and wail

of the Dylan crow
at the height of his powers
showers my sense

with harmonica bars. Neck
hair prickles. I blink
and he’s gone.

Tuesday Poem

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About paparoa

Writer and researcher.
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