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Richard Meier Terrain Vague by Richard Meier  
 
poem    
    Richard Meier

Conflicint Testimony

I'm hoping it's going to rain. The cows have to eat
next winter. The time spent
figuring out connections, a constellation
of shooting stars called incunabula, and dug for in the dirt . . .

But we don't feed the birds, we attract them,
fat as intangibles, to the glass part of our houses.
Their songs cannot contain complaint,
and a red that's more like strawberries than blood

is a theme of my motion picture, whose symbols are shattered,
whose moral is forget the birds above the battle
you've recreated in your consciousness,
and then forget that. The shepherd yields a real crook

and everyone wonders about owning a neck,
while her own is being, and the one that's fit.
But that's not right. No one had to breathe a word,
the black bird, was swallowed after light.


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    Excerpted from Terrain Vague by Richard Meier. Copyright © 2001, Verse Press. Winner of the first annual Verse Prize, selected by Tomaz Salamun