lluminated
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The secret bird refuses to be known.
Its color is a flavor still unnamed,
More like a smell than scarlet, a tone,
An oboe’s voice perhaps. It won’t be framed
In French Provincial white and gold. It won’t
Be painted onto anything but mist.
It wings don’t even whisper and they don’t
Say words like “John and Jesus never kissed.”
Its shape is not as bird-like as a youth
In Mughal paintings, more like sounds with silk,
Sheer notes. It manifests eternal truth,
As vaprous as the Virgin Mary’s milk.
..The secret bird is like a phoenix burned
….ITo live forever, Talmud meaning spurned.