A Story of cold bird...

Date: Mon,  1 Jul 2002 03:53:411 -0700 (PDT)
From: Richard Traynham 
Subject: cold. cold . . . . story
To: pizo@mac-2001.com

This is the story of Cold Bird.


    Or, rather, it is "more properly", ....

    it is is one of the many tales told 

    about 

                         Cold Bird

.
.
.

.

.



The humans came.

They did not know what they were doing.

They just came.

That was not their worst crime.

It was this:

They captured Cold Bird.

(cold bird was not cold then, she did not 
 know the ways of hot and cold)

They brought her to a great zew.

They thought that they had done well.


But.

They had not.

At first Cold Bird tied to be happy.

She sang, and chirped as best she could.


But.

It was not enough.

She missed her family.

She missed her mother.

She missed her father.

And then a Silly Man brought his children to see
her.

She perked up, and tried to look happy.

The man's son Knew better.

"Dad, she is sad."


That night the zew grew quiet.  

A thief stole in.

In some ways it did not matter that his heart
was in the right place,  in some ways it did 
not matter that he knew his art well...

All that mattered (and here the story is

                   garbled 

                   and here the story is 

                   glocked)...

Cold Bird stood upon an-arctic-shores (once again).




(the man has two bright and shine-y pennies upon his
 eye-lids,  

the stars shine bright-ly upon that cold air-conditioned
    shore...

and some-where a poet sings,

and some-where a world waits for more

(stories)....


This is maybe that world....



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