from “Hunting the Wild Tengu”

Martin Rock
· in ,

I.

The birds of today have no concept of plumage, old friend. I remember when all creatures were hollow like the sun and their dancing induced fits strong enough to banish all color from this land and the next.

This was before umbrellas of course, before the pressing of air with the tongue. Well before the irony of clothing, (which we do now on Sundays under the bridge). Back when names were taken only in death, so one could crawl inside anyone without remorse.

Because they were made of sky, it was possible to train them. Because they were neighborly, we devoured them.

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Martin Rock is an MFA candidate in poetry at New York University, where he is the 2009-10 St. Mary’s Fellow. He helps hospitalized children express themselves in writing, and often wishes his poems were as profound as his students’. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Washington Square Review and co-curator of the Graduate Cornelia Street Poetry Reading Series in Manhattan. On Saturday evenings he can often be found in the library, translating Japanese poetry. Don’t feel bad. He likes it.