Friday, January 30, 2015

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Trollbird

Among twenty reasonable comments,   
The only livid thing   
Was the caw of the trollbird.   

I was of three minds,   
Like a blog
In which there are three trollbirds.   

The trollbird whirled in the autumn winds.   
It was a small part of the pantomime.   

A man and a man pretending to be a woman   
Are one.   
A man and a man pretending to be a woman and a trollbird   
Are one.   

I do not know which to prefer,   
The banality of congruent discourse
Or the beauty of innuendoes,   
The trollbird ROFLMFAO’ing
Or just after.   

Libertarians filled the long comments section
With barbaric glass.   
The shadow of the trollbird   
Crossed it, to and fro.   
The mood   
Traced in the shadow   
An indecipherable cause.   

O thin men of Webdom,   
Why do you imagine golden birds?   
Do you not see how the trollbird   
Walks around the feet   
Of the earnest among you?   

I know noble accents   
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;   
But I know, too,   
That the trollbird is involved   
In what I know.   

When the trollbird was banned,   
It marked the edge   
Of one of many circles.   

At the sight of trollbirds   
Remarking in a green mood,   
Even the bawds of euphony   
Would cry out sharply.   

Wieseltier rode over Connecticut   
In a glass coach.   
Once, a fear pierced him,   
In that he mistook   
The shadow of his equipage   
For trollbirds.   

The book has four-and-a-half stars.   
The trollbird will be flying soon.   

It was evening all afternoon.   
It was snowing   
And it was going to snow.   
The trollbird signed on
With a fresh user-name.

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