Allan Kolski Horwitz

There are two birds at my window

one of wood one of stone

green stone of the rocks by the river

shone to shine with its depths

hard wood that grows in the mountain earth

scented with wind and dust and rain

the birds at my window sing day and night

by day they sing of love and war

the fire and flare of invention

by night they sing of birth and death

the springs of joy and convulsion

the birds at my window

perch without moving

their wings do not lift

their beaks do not tremble

the birds at my window sing and sing

day and night day and night

inside me