Evening Birds
With the sunset comes
the first of the evening
birds, with their glassy
eyes and piercing blue
notes, bragging about all their
women in the dark
places of our quaint
little neighborhood, the sun
now nothing but a
residue of pink
and gold on the horizon,
and the stars just now
focusing all their
distant gazes upon us
from places that some
scientists say are
now just giant holes in space,
that lead somewhere else.
With the sunset comes
the first of the evening
birds, with their glassy
eyes and piercing blue
notes, bragging about all their
women in the dark
places of our quaint
little neighborhood, the sun
now nothing but a
residue of pink
and gold on the horizon,
and the stars just now
focusing all their
distant gazes upon us
from places that some
scientists say are
now just giant holes in space,
that lead somewhere else.
Jason Ryberg is the author of eighteen books of poetry, six screenplays, a few short stories, a box full of folders, notebooks and scraps of paper that could one day be (loosely) construed as a novel, and, a couple of angry letters to various magazine and newspaper editors. He is currently an artist-in-residence at both The Prospero Institute of Disquieted P/o/e/t/i/c/s and the Osage Arts Community, and is an editor and designer at Spartan Books.
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