chester giles writes

WARM BEER IN THE BALKANS

warm beer in the balkans

listening to the birdsong and the chainsaws

    covered in that dust

by the yellow house

and the high nests

with the stalk sat in its home

on top of the telegraph pole

the bricks all talking

the seats all falling to pieces with laughter

white

green

red

the flag drapes and flutters

the trees bow

and the big bill feeds its young

  squawking

I would eat the worms from its mouth

I would sip its coca cola

hear me chirping

silly with gold feather

see me flutter

I am as much dust as you are

something yellow

something gold

something bright and shining