Dawn Pendergast

from Zoo Po Day

First, tie gurrrr

It is licking to which the tongue mechanism stoops low as a crow
to needle. The bottom of said tiger, who haunches and looks
grand, in rocking with one extension (being one leg) is right there.
It is hard to imagine this one's under-the-belly action being
cleansing, less a hunk, more tourniquet of winter nightness.

- - -

Rhino, symmetrical

Where on is exactly
like two leaning
against the dust, what
of the heat about
you rhino? What a bird
to throw you off. There
there is twitching in
your general quiet, I think,
of Paul and you, then
the hair making your horns,
then the black eye
of your skull lost
in little like the dust.
It would take a pair
of peacocks to rouse
you, their prancing
which isn't yours and
you must have regarded
them. You always regard.

- - -

To Little, Girl

A bird at the foot equals
ten in the sky.

- - -

Chinese muntjac

Never weathering the
grandmotherly way
bodies kind of condense
with age. Muntjac, there
is a hole on you. Look.
Your body is all of a
deer crammed into
this plush box. You've got
a pointer, to voice concern
for the birds, who I can not
escape, this, really, happened,
in, my, heart. Big time.

- - -

Giraffe, Balance

There are multiple leanings
and swinging which is simply
standing. Work is which way,
depending. The wind alights
his back. There is some
thing about a leash, here,
which I am thinking even
falsely. I pull taut as all
giraffe seeming, which
has taken, in fact, a picture.

- - -

East African Crowned Crane

The crowned crane has wicked walking
habits, a spiny sneak which contrasts
that head of birds to what splaying fuzz
that was her belly. What of it? What of
it, in a bitty voice, like a snake
attached to wings.

- - -

Lie on

me lightly, holiday, the same
(to the sides) pile of yawning you,
the newly gold understuff,
squinting, is it, that you do,
strewn in your own won shade
in this dust. What are you to do,
but this.

- - -

Otter, others

Wheeze all! The water
applause and the hollowed
log and better company
when you twirl the webbing
twix your fingers. It gets the
better of us. Your tail is this
muscle only equal to what
you know about yourself
swimming and switching
to land like nothing. We are
all the same to you. Food.
It is all to same, slip, between.

- - -

Yo! Monkey!

It is all about armpits with you and the through-ways the body
lays itself out, anus, everything being slack. We are nervous and
we are not. We are touching like Jimmy does, mounting the fence
with this spread of shoulders, impossible shoulders, which do little
more than roll around, a little abject, closer to home, the bones
being small partners of the scheme.


Dawn Pendergast's own website is what birds give up.

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