Peacocks and turkeys. They both fan
Out their tail feathers. I once
Knew a woman who was chased by a turkey
As she (the woman) walked through the woods.
Have you ever been bullied by a peacock?
The gooseberry wands droop
Full of gooseberries. The Mayapples
Shyly hide their fruit. The winds
Embarrass us with their sensuous pull.
The path is scattered with last year’s
Leaves: new green shoots through them
Here and there. Turkeys are on the move.
Peacocks are defending their landscape
Architecture, their faux castle ruins
And crèches. It’s a damned
Interesting thing to say. The mind feels
Dead in some respects. The women
Of Istanbul are fond of touching beautiful
Cloth, cloth as blue as the Bosporus, cloth
As blue as the dome of a mosque.
I have been befriended by box elder bugs.
They criticize what I have written
By a flick of their antennae. They can receive
Public radio. They describe in detail,
In a language we can’t hear, women wrapped
Beautifully in bolts of Bosporus blue.