When Flowers Were I n Bloom

When Flowers Were I n Bloom


Summer of The Sparrow

“Remember the sparrows,
their chicks--

the weight, the heaviness
hung on a thin piece of skin,
as though gravity was about to pull
their huge heads off.
Chingados hermano, why did we kill them.
It wasn’t right.

It wasn’t right.”

“Ismael,” I whispered,
“it was you who killed them.”

My words fluttered in the treetops,
fled across the sky
with raven,
with sparrow,
rose above the clouds
and vanished into space.

“All the flies in the universe came,” he said.
“It was as though the cosmos was a billion,
trillion dark flies and they collapsed on his head.
He was a fucking black hole sucking in the light,
until all that was left was a black mass of pinché flies --
house flies
horse flies
gad flies
zebra flies
flies,” he chuckled.

Snake slithered up my thigh
coiled around my balls and squeezed
then raised his head and struck.

“Why bro’,” he asked. “Why did we do it?”
I simply shrugged.

“Hermano, I was having a hell of a fuck dream.
I was on a river bank, my dick stuck in a mud hole.
There I was, Coyote, fucking the earth,
my bushy tail frantically wagging.
Shit, I started laughing.
I laughed so hard I farted thunder,
shot lightening out my ass and lit up the Sky --
that’s when I woke, that’s when I heard them,
that’s when I smelled it.”

There was strange poison in my veins
and I silently prayed, brother Snake leave,
but his fangs were deep in my heart
and my words were dead.

“It was everywhere,” he continued.
“It was in the cottonfields,
in the chicken-coop, in the garden.
I stumbled towards the barn.
Don’t know if I walked like a stork
because of fear or weed.

he was missing for three days.
All this time he was in his Chevy truck
behind the goddamn barn.
Before, we’d always find him
with his accordion and Lonestars,
and mom and dad would ground him for a week,
then he’d be in his room sniffing glue
-- that little fuck.”

There was a pause, then he said,
“Hermano, what we did
-- It was wrong.”

I wanted to scream --
Ismael, it was you who killed them,
but Instead, I just nodded.

“Bro,’ it was a black mass --
hanging on a sparrow’s neck,

All the flies in creation were there.
Light was squeezed to the other side.
His huge, dark head dangled from the window.
I thought any second it would be

A breeze fanned the windmill,
the shaft clanked, from the bushes
a bobwhite exploded and shredded space.

“Why did we do it bro?’
We kept count till we lost track.
We hated those little fuckers
-- remember?”

Snake, release me, I demanded,
but I had no authority,
and there were no words
only evening light
and the song
of the Sparrow.


  1. Anonymous6:45 PM

    I've read and re-read this and there's so much sadness in it. The main character feels an emptiness and is doing much soul searching. It's very good. It's excellent! But the voice is sad, searching for meaning in a world that's unfair. The voice recognizes that there is a God, a Father, but longs to connect with Him and make sense of the world. Once again it puts a very vivid picture in my head. Thanks for the opportunity to read your stuff.
    Maybe I'm nuts, but that's what jumps out at me.

  2. well plotted lines,

    sad story.


  3. that was such a fantastic read! i was blown away.


  4. Maybe I'm nuts, but that's what jumps out at me.

    O hell
    we're all a little
    nuts :)

    muchas gracias
    por los comentarios

    peace& love

  5. thank u jingle
    for the remarks

    much love

  6. mia
    i appreciate
    u hanging for awhile
    & leaving a comment

    have visited ur blog
    & will do so again
    to read more
    of ur poetry

    later my sister

    love & peace

  7. Anonymous2:57 PM

    Nice work..

  8. Anonymous10:19 PM

    Isn't it strange but comforting in an odd way, the song of birds and the purity of it?

    Thanks for sharing, fantastic read!

  9. Very nice and the music is great


  10. Anonymous11:30 AM

    wow! that was explosive...but sad.

    keep it up, happy rally! :)