Running With Struthious Feather

Running With Struthious Feather

Running With Struthious Feather

It behooves you to be struthious
if you’re afraid of heights. Tell
the truth and run, run, run. ’cause

sometimes parachutes don’t work, and
not every car has a sunroof to look out
or a big bird to talk to about letters home

— Douglas Gilbert


Eating Cat

Cat Meat

We poor little finches hate that
they’ve made drainage ditches.

We think it’s just silly construction
because you have no feathers, and

you don’t know how to fry seeds,
or roast a cat with mayonnaise.

I think there might be a road
where an Opera had feathers

and you could sing me
my ultimate fluff, and

I’d like to make a new fashion
in honor of my sister who
was tortured to death
by a feline fiend

— Douglas Gilbert

Reading Dregs

Reading Dregs

There is someone
who used to know me

surreptitiously read
my Sloopy poem, and
hoped I’d jump from
my cliff devoid of Love.

Yes, it’s true, there
might be gold on a speculation
about a posthumous artist
recognized in death for
some rejected style that
has some analyst with credentials
crying on its bones now when
a good paper can be written.

When has exhumation
become pretty. Maybe

I should have fleshed it out
a little better, been
a better song
been a bird, because

I can not fly
or fly fish.

I’ve gone done by the river
to pick up leaves, watch bears
catch fish in glory splash, so I
might take leave mildly by the river
flaky crumbly, a waste like dregs
not even a beer anyone would
ever want to drink.

— Douglas Gilbert