hid in the thicket of

fa

bles       bles       re

cuperate among

the nightingales;

impoverished, dulled,

the fables must not         

dishonor

                    the nightynightin

                    gales: they must heal

                    (in the thicket)

among the flip

floppity wings

in the deeper

foliage

                      where proverbs become

                      fairytales

they must heal, the fables,

in the fluster of shielding

wings, luster

less, stripped

of all reverb

eration

                          soothing their wounds

                          among the birds, the

                          birds

of fable, fabl

ed birds; they must,

the fables, re

cover their

luminosity, re

gain

                             luster of wild

                             mushrooms on the

                             tundra, lust

er of gem

and mineral

until they are healed, the fables

robust and glowing—and they can fly!

                             among the nightingales

hovering on the ledges of skyscrapers

crest of a bridge, wood

en platform of the el

perching, the fables, on water

tower and the metal domes

of industrial waste plants

McDonalds, Mark’s Diner, Columbus Circle

doppel

gonging the skaters in Central Park, gay

lovers on the Promenade

absorbent in the Cemetery of Colonial Graves

gliding overnight to the fields of sparseness

the waste places

where the root, bitter and boot-

trodden

sprouts up and out

to the light of the fables—

wheeling then to remote

caves of disintegration, re

incarnation

transfiguration

and now

                     they are fit            fit!

                     to be fed to

                                                                 nightingales.

Stanley Nelson

 

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