Robert Knapp

Soare Cu Dinti

It was Sunny with Teeth in the wind and
Jeff was trying to figure out how to
              not kill his self when a bird made of glass,
              hazel, copperwire, and song flit into
       the porch and tufted, buffeted, blew good

air into Jeff, and the singing was nice
for it rattled the Teeth out of the Wind
              and the bird inhaled some grief and some spite
              and it warmed the malaise out of Jeff and
       he picked up the guitar while I watched and

even though the news was on, the news was
on, the news was on we felt real okay
              for a minute But the wire got green and
              the hazel ran dull of a sudden and
       the glass was just sugar and the string

threading whole the whole bird whole was no string
at all, but a fray—like a quarrel— and
              the guitar grew a warp in its neck and
              the sun was a rotten egg and it cracked
       and more news fell out, more news fell out, more

news blew, and it curdled and burbled like sulfurs—
reeking—left us so breathless, oh breathless.

 

If you see Jeff please call, but call without
teeth, call like a bird, just call, just call, just—

Author Portrait

Robert Knapp is a poet from Houston, Texas. He teaches writing at The University of Kansas in Lawrence, plays too much D&D, and never has the right shoes for any weather. His chapbook, SCREED, was published by these signals press in 2015. Knapp is currently working on a full-length collection of poetry, Oil+Baby: An Autoecolographia.