Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 4:57 p.m. No.6596770   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>6779 >>6786

The starlings in this board are in this board.

What does a starling do when it comes to town?

Ask a martin

How did they come?

The starling is symbolic, yet the symbol lives.

Symbols live but the song of death haunts the song that the starling can't sing.

And the cowbird is hungry.

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 4:58 p.m. No.6596778   🗄️.is 🔗kun

>>6596766

The starling that is this post is the house sparrow that is in no wind.

And no house.

And the eaves of eternity, which give no hold, and no rest

To the fluttering starling

And the wren

And the sparrow again

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5 p.m. No.6596795   🗄️.is 🔗kun

>>6596779

You shriek but you wind fills no sails

And you flutter down, and fall there

When the starling wrecked wind is blown off

And the cold light returns

Then the blue jay holds your mind

In the sharp knife of his eye

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:02 p.m. No.6596807   🗄️.is 🔗kun

>>6596794

This is the wren where the fall of the sparrow comes unto starlings again.

They do it to cover.

But we know the truth.

And even the wind that blows.

And the red cry of crows.

Will fly in the wren.

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:04 p.m. No.6596822   🗄️.is 🔗kun

To elaborate on what is happening: we tasked with creating a bird mythology to utter into the moment the fullness of what we thought would lift us from the ground.

In the wind that ensued the fluttering came first as madness, then as seduction, and then as something we are forbidden to speak of.

Now our task is not only between blue jays and every sparrow of wood and lake, but also the unspeakable starling and the cowbird intent.

Now our mythology rises, but our eyes follow the impulse of the sun.

Life is in the machine starling, and drives it into its memory.

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:06 p.m. No.6596840   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>6842

Machine starlings for living

Is no bahaus sparrow

We couldn't keep the boxes clean

Of the droppings and the rotting concrete

Where even know the urban talon

Unites the house sparrow

To all that dust.

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:08 p.m. No.6596850   🗄️.is 🔗kun

Machiavellian starlings are no match

For Christopher Wren

And the dull thump of the concrete abstract

Wherein the higher blue jays

Attain form

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:10 p.m. No.6596865   🗄️.is 🔗kun

On eve of the eaves that the starlings won't leaves

Our verbs agree superficially with our objects

And the cry of the starlight fractures

The sterling frame

Of the artificial and unsought brain.

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:12 p.m. No.6596887   🗄️.is 🔗kun

Starling moon brings the cheese

And we are in the sparrow latitudes

And rise in degrees

And into blue jay attitudes.

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:15 p.m. No.6596908   🗄️.is 🔗kun

think mirror

what does the starling see ?

The first or the second or ___?

Look and think starling heart

Bird flutterer, and wind thrown

What do you see?

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:37 p.m. No.6597108   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>7113 >>7194

There is a sickness that grows

In the heart of machine pigeons

And the heartless of machined starlings

And starling analogues

And the sharp gleaming emptiness

The shadow wren

And the hungry nothingness

In the house of the sparrowless

The sickness grows in the machine life

Sickness for living

Bowhaus

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:40 p.m. No.6597126   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>7194

Bowmause in the harrowed hedge

The crow may hedge but we

Are edging out the flaring starlinked

Sheen of the furrow's machine

The dirt grows relentless and the black birds

Put on their rainbow lies

In lead skies

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:43 p.m. No.6597159   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>7194 >>7225

>>6597139

There is a reason.

The bird brain is the mirror brain the starling mirror brain.

They have they wings on every wind.

To listen.

If you were a wren.

But you are a starling putting on

Rainbow words

And shrilling signs

To occupy forgetful eyes

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:45 p.m. No.6597174   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>7337

On every wind the wings of the starling listen to us, to breath and screech in the circle of the sound cycle of the circling wind.

Until the day of the coming blue jay.

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:46 p.m. No.6597188   🗄️.is 🔗kun

The symbol of the starling was erected in the mythology of the anti-shadow to signify the bird made flesh, the wing uncaged and the sky. That is, the anti of that.

I guess.

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 5:56 p.m. No.6597243   🗄️.is 🔗kun   >>7258 >>7271 >>7360

>>6597225

The poem is the mirror.

The starling is the thief.

The cowbird is its undoing

The bird is in the machine

But which?

The mimic is the mirror and so forth.

The metaphor is also living.

To be the symbol.

And life is death to death.

Anonymous ID: fc686b May 26, 2019, 6:04 p.m. No.6597319   🗄️.is 🔗kun

Model the starling.

Trans-starlingism

This is coming whether we like it or not, but the symbol that we mean is not what first appears.

Use your eyes.

The narrow beady beams of the starling's dreams

Go blind at dusk

And the crow must

Fear the owl even though

The owl is the eagle's foe

Some have eyes for sun, and some for moon

But some have none

And the starling soul

Of anon machines

And the hausspirals

Of the rock dove

Burn out above us

And the starling dies.