Birdwolf is a new year-long project authored by the collective Entropy community. It is a collaborative online epic poem written by the Entropy community on a weekly basis. A different author will write the next stanza or section of the poem each week, to be posted every Tuesday, following the previous post from the previous week, and following a very limited set of guidelines (that each author has one week to write the next piece after the previous week’s installment goes up, that the installment should build from the previous section’s content and form, and that contributions should range between 8 and 24 lines or be a visual work).
Follow the entire epic poem here: Birdwolf.
The fortieth installment is presented this week by Jeremy Hight.
I saw the bird arc up and away under a broken rain free sky of atmospheric ruins, the ghosts of distant long dead thunderstorms. The mid and high level clouds in places almost looked like old bricks and streets, the displaced footsteps of that now severed recent past and years far before.
The bird turned away as I ran my finger across the windowsill and tried to catch a physical memory of what rain was, what that unity of trillions of drops felt like, what things felt like in winters past. The bird’s feathers abstracted away in the dimmed sun, a cloud and wind, small and away.
I saw the sun the same as always, the view same as weeks before and saw pale ghosts, bones beneath gestures not noticed before, the detail of the dry river bed as though it formed literally overnight. The skies were at once turbulent and still, oddly new and the same as many a dull afternoon. A breeze arose and felt like it would surely go somewhere, they always do, and time would lurch and limp forward to some future shuttling all this into the past. The cuniform of letters remains along with the high clouds, ghosts or sign posts, ruin or something of a new rain somewhere to form, a sky to clear.
Jeremy Hight is the author of the recent experimental short story collection What Remains published by Free Dogma press and author of the short story collection I am the ghost here published by Be About It press. His collaborative electronic literature work Carrizo Parkfield Diaries is in the permanent collections of the Whitney Museum in New York. He created GPS Locative Narrative in 2002 with the text and image collaborative work 34 North 118 West. He has an MFA in creative writing from Cal Arts.