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The Linnet's Wings

Late Night Guitar by Tom Sheehan

I hear an odd wire vibrate

against a dark red wood.




It ripples along, hoarse,

talks a mountain to pieces.




All Iberia is elaborate

in string and lath;




peninsula of high heels,

ribbons dancing on the mane,




black hats horse-parading,

friar’s lantern honing swords.




A later moon of Pico de Aneto

dies in the dust of olive trees.




A forlorn SAC bomber, tailed,

falcons its way home silently.




When a bull is born

the earth shakes twice,




and an odd wire vibrates

against a darker red wood.



The Linnets Wings