twain

carve me up a pillow in a knife fight so the feathers fly

feathers flying falling fast in a perfect vacuum

Leonardo no wait Galileo

no wait

it was a long time ago now

feathers flying fate foretold

bird sans plumage flightless fathered pondered

not the phœnix of immortal fame and flame

but fried with biscuits gravy grits and all that

consumed utterly gone and all that in a trice

Apollinaire “I shall come back often”

gallivanting galvanised nothing to support them

nothing craning their necks to see

or twisting them

no more reason than a toad has for a tap dance

could if he wanted to he’ll tell you

go take a flying jump

and where you land that is the mark

i