Occasional Hawk Photographer
Lofted Wings and Burning Things
Blindly heroic architecture
on which to perch and which to dive.
Angels of emanation,
burning bright and burning light.
Engineers of machinations,
looking low with darkened eyes.
The ghost of the flea. You’ll see.
The flick of the tongue.
You’ll see the drinking of blood.
You’ll see the mirror of our love.
This song is about the transformation from mediocrity to madness.
And hawks.
But I can think of at least a few other valid meanings. It was written in collaboration with a particular redtail hawk—who is my neighbor. During the writing process, I shared a couple of iterations of this song on Substack Notes. No need for me to repeat myself.
What we do online echoes in eternity.
This song may also be used as a spell. MiterCORP is not responsible for any ill use of magic.
The hawk will receive no royalties or compensation, though it has now signed a record deal with LABELABEL.
Occasional Hawk Photographer and The Baby Dragon Flies