A long time afraid of the filigree of light, what you imagine to be the wing of a bird cleaving your face, air on your eyes before you can shut them. It's the only thing you see. It's the kind of wick you cannot lick your fingers to put out. --- the filigree / of light

My unmothered bird, dropped from the sky like a millstone. …the swell of new growth

The sky is open all the way. whose irrepressible birds can’t believe their luck this morning

Inside the dodo bird is a forest, Inside the forest a peach analog, Inside the peach analog a woman, Inside the woman a lake of funerals, disappointed male lovers, scientists, Inside the lake a volcano of whale songs, Inside the volcano a language of naming, Inside the language an algorithm for de-extinction, Inside the algorithm blued dynamite to dissolve the colony's Sun, twinkle twinkle, I didn't mean to fall in love with failure, its molting rapture, I didn't mean to name myself from a necklace of silent vowels, I didn't go looking for the bird, I entered through the empty cage, hips first --- a lake of funerals to name myself from a necklace of silent vowels

To uncoil the wild little everything inside lungs throbbed by its own wings