The Wings of Buckley Puford

Sit back, and let me regale ya with
the tale of Buckley Puford,

but only if you swear upon this
bound scripture you won’t
buy a single word

Where was I?
Oh yeah, a song about
a bird..

poor sparrow hatched with
bill too narrow for trills
or downing worms like
stronger brothers

hid his shames for years under
mother’s feathers, hoping
he’d grow up just like
the others,

twisted face, matted down as
permafrost on autumn

just look at that face stuck
in perma-frown and bird’s eye
still won’t look down

though he’s ready, laid out
flat on autumn ground,

a look lifts, plumes cascade
in thrust skyward

and bird’s onward in search for
perch in lusher town

yeah, so i just named him
Buckley Puford, thought it the
only name our bird

well there’s my tale, and since
you insist, i’ll lay these
bones down, now.



6 thoughts on “The Wings of Buckley Puford

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