2009 -- 2.1 (Fall) Poetry

the Nightingale rests on a tree

the Nightingale rests on a tree

My heart leaps when I look and see

The beautiful bird sings and calls

My soul to worth from mankind’s fall

Sitting in the grass I listen

His eye pierces me and glistens

Perched he was: with a leap he flies

I grabbed my gun and shot his eye

I plucked the bird naked, (g

utting him clean,

liver and splee


Sprinkling his skin with spices and


I cooked him on the grill

and stuffed my belly to the fill.

Of the guts and leftovers

I tossed to the Vultures.

I was told the bird has powers to sooth the soul,

like chamomile to the belly

or a bullet to my ex, Shelley.

After swelling my stomach

and undoing my button,

I vomited up the absurd.

Such stories of this Nightingale to sooth

is based upon (            ).


But oh what a luscious bird.

P.J. German