Twitter bird
And it’s on! I’ve successfully stepped into the 21st century, with my first Twitter account ever. I feel blue, blue bird. If Wallace Stevens had been a little more commercial, he would have written Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Bluebird:
I
Among twenty snowy mountains,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the bluebird.
II
I was of three minds,
Like a tree
In which there are three bluebirds.
III
The bluebird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
IV
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a bluebird
Are one.
V
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The bluebird whistling
Or just after.
VI
Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the bluebird
Crossed it, to and fro.
The mood
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
VII
O thin men of Haddam,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the bluebird
Walks around the feet
Of the women about you?
VIII
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the bluebird is involved
In what I know.
IX
When the bluebird flew out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
X
At the sight of bluebirds
Flying in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
XI
He rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
For bluebirds.
XII
The river is moving.
The bluebird must be flying.
XIII
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The bluebird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
Conclusion:
Blue are the ways
Of the bluebird.
Blue its echoes
In a sea of dreams.
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