Cannibal Bird

The metallic starling sings,
or cries—sharp and simple
tintinnabulations strike the
shadowy rainforest air, the
fog; the sense of sameness
lapses when it emerges—a
Satan bird: a beetle’s slick
black iridescent coat, a keen
and scheming raven’s aspect,
and black blobs of pupils in
blood-red eyes, and it feeds
on little plums of the solitaire
palm that look the same:
fruits of its own eyes it eats
obliviously, unaware of its
maleficent, antichrist and
cannibal aura, but boy its
pipes can strike a chord, not
melodious, but bold and lucid,
cutting through the deep and
dreamlike underwood, the fog,
the spinning jungle shadows.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!


Gabriel Muoio


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