Thursday, June 29, 2006


Today I almost bought you a hummingbird feeder,
thinking, why not have their long, hovering beaks over for nectar?

Since we have big weeds and loud singing birds already
squawking, really, in this sticky wet air,

With hammers and bells in the Sunday streets
And the steady blowing fan, the annoying horn of the train,

Until we reach a clearer hour, which flattens the bad music
Leaving only a hum that falls like water on leaves

After three years and three people soon in this house
And always more versions of “hum”-- nous, nahono, assi, uns

Just this something, only a bumbling attempt to express myself
With a wish for hummingbirds and other things to come.


tilo said...


8:59 PM  
Panini Pothoharvi said...

Hum Bhi or We too

the humming bird
weathered the storm
entered the void
in an airy dawn
the world below
Forlorn! Forgone!
Feathers spread
In a spiral move
It sings lovelorn
of the warp and woof
and the weaver’s tools
a forgotten song
(Haman haiN ishq mastaana
haman ko hosiyaari kya) *
We are the love
in joyous trance…

12:07 AM  
Scott Eric Kaufman said...


And yes.

And yes again.

Their buzz ignites the feline imagination, frustrates the human eye, and reminds us that we can't say we see what we think we see with absolute certainty, which always checks in the positive column. (If you ask me, at least.)

10:27 AM  

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