Never seen a linnet, and you might well be one,
green arrow sat on the electric wire.
Maskless, drop of dun tum blanched by
the beetles that jockey for place therein.
I hear from your nattering—beetles you swallow
are also compelled to supply your song.
The erps, the clangs—hics and bristling—
racket of volted song you stole.
-2005
