“we are suspect men birds earth wrists cuffed
bent over the hood of evening
what are they asking what have we done?
who can blame the birds (whose hearts are a thousand chemicals)
that they hallucinate
the rayon day-cover of the moon?
who decides? who commands the visions of the beasts?
beloved be the mini-flashlights of their notes turned on too early fading
birds too clover in the dusk now to sing
hardly being with
neglected slight-wings of the ardent mother of atrocity
birds! she uses two eggs
cracks them in the middle”
— Cal Bedient, from “Evening in the Company of Undecided Birds”