WORD/ FOR WORD: Volume One

David Pavelich

six stanzas



Friends. Just barely sparrows in the eaves,
what color. We spend some time in scratching, too,
just before the afternoon. "Gain" is a strange ending,
like tinsel in discarded trees that sparkles
like ice sparkles on snow sparkled on fields.
A simple over and over again, over and over again, what sound.







What color. The simple over and over again of sparrows,
like tinsel in the eaves, in discarded trees.
Just before the afternoon, just barely afternoon,
over and over again, like ice sparkled on snow.
Scratching what sounds we can, we friends.
Strange ending. No gaining the field.







Tinsel spends some time scratching, some time
to sparkle, color or sounds.
Sparrows spend some time scratching, too,
some time sounding, on discarded trees
that sparkle, like we do, under snow.
A simple field, at the end of an afternoon, colored over.







Friend, scratching over the color
with a discarded coin- that sparkle we do-
ending the simple sounds, gaining the sound,
again and again like a sparrow from the tree
to the eave to the tree to the eave,
and time, and again in the afternoon







A new color, no end to it. What about new sounds,
the scratch of snow or sparkle of sounds of snow?
A whole new field of discarded coins on ice,
the scratch of coins or sparkles of coins on ice.
What about new friends? What to spend over and over,
what to gain again, that sparkle we do, a whole other field.







Again, a simple sparkle over afternoon,
a tossed coin, over and over and over.
What we do, like sound or color or time,
tinsel for snow, trees scratching the eaves,
is gain a field, like a sparrow gains a field
by scratching.

[contributors' notes]
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