an accident of nature, this bird can’t be described in Latin

or by ornithologists

it waits for Armageddon, like Osiris

it laughs, and flies away from trouble, with a 3,000-foot view

it doesn’t do what the other birds want it to, sitting in perfect rows on power lines, rehearsing nature’s songs

it watches humans too

the Ostrolope is wiser than owls, and more onery than crows

a prophetic bird

it isn’t angry, or trying to poop in the compost yard

it unloads on assholes in suits

the Ostrolope was a miserable man until he learned how to fly


does he feel this way?

the walls are closing in, the paint is off-color

the whole world will be reborn in fire, not because the sun exploded

(that would be marvelous)

but because humans can’t live with each other

they kill their babies before they are born, and scream for their rights to do so

they think they have advanced as a society

but they are no different than the Aztecs

sacrificing their children to selfish gods

it is best to let them kill each other, like the slimy fish they are

educated in schools, to hate each other

poisoned by their own pollution

the Ostrolope looks at nature’s signals

at society’s scars

and loves to fly above their protests

it reads books under the stars, and longs to be far away

waiting for mushrooms clouds

the young and old, will be dying, one day

while it sings its mournful mating call

marriage is gone, like grainy VHS tape

because sex without love is cheap entertainment


embraces the stranger, and kills the friend

in the end,

there will be such beautiful silence

nature will start again

I hope life doesn’t find a way

I pray

for the dead darkness

without stars.

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