Two Poems Craig Arnold Issue 189, Summer 2009 Purchase this issue A Ubiquity of Sparrows A certain traveler who knew many continents was asked what he found most remarkable of all. He replied: the ubiquity of sparrows.                         —Adam Zagejewski Sparrow who drags a footlong crust of bread behind him Sparrow whose head is pecked bald from so many quarrels Sparrow who cocks her head to one side     as if doubtful Sparrow who follows every flick of your hands moving Sparrow who spies from far off the flag of a shaken tablecloth Sparrows dashing to any spot where sparrows are gathered Sparrow beating her wings to haul off a strawberry Sparrow bandito with black mask and bandanna who robs her Sparrow the poet's lover keeps close in her lap to make him jealous     nipping her finger hard     harder Sparrow chasing a papery butterfly     flapping and snapping the butterfly each time impossibly escaping the sparrow savage     the sparrow persistent     is there no mercy Sparrow chick pinfeathered     hunched on the window ledge Sparrow roasted over a piece of bread to catch the entrails Sparrow whose feet barely sway the twig of a willow who leaps into the air with the smallest of leaf-shivers Sparrow the color of dust and mud and dry grass-stems Sparrows kept on the wing by farmers banging saucepans kept flying until they drop     a soft heap of bodies Sparrow who says cheap     sparrow who says Philip Philip Sparrow who keeps the secrets of wistful men and women Sparrow shot with a pellet gun     sparrow who crackles under a boy's bootsole     like brown October leaves Sparrow whose fall from the sky is noticed by what god Sparrow who squats in the bluebird's nest     in the martin houses who moves in with a gang of thugs and there goes the neighborhood Sparrow who shot Cock Robin and later was hanged like a thief Sparrow astray in the airport     tracked by the one-eyed guns Sparrow said to have brought the English unto belief Sparrow who came to the king's hall in the midst of a snowstorm fluttering in through one window and out of another Sparrow do you imagine more than a little warm rambunctious life between two corridors of nothing the one forever before     the one forever after The Heart Under Your Heart Who gives his heart away too easily must have a heart under his heart.                         —James Richardson The heart under your heart             is not the one you share so readily      so full of pleasantry             & tenderness it is a single blackberry             at the heart of a bramble or else some larger fruit             heavy      the size of a fist it is full of things             you have never shared with me broken engagements      bruises             & baking dishes the scars on top of scars             of sixteen thousand pinpricks the melody you want so much to carry             & always fear black fear or so I imagine      you have never shown me             & how could I expect you to I also have a heart beneath my heart             perhaps you have seen      or guessed it is a beach at night where the waves lap & the wind hisses             over a bank of thin translucent orange & yellow jingle shells on the far side of the harbor             the lighthouse beacon shivers across the black water             & someone stands there      waiting Purchase this issue	SEARCH     Full Search E-mail this page | Print | View Cart | Check Out INTERVIEW R. Crumb, David Mitchell FICTION Katherine Dunn DISPATCH Julia Whitty MEMOIR Wenguang Huang, Victor LaValle POETRY Matthew Zapruder PHOTOGRAPHS Jeff Antebi
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