Hybrids

[[...of an exiting Neruda ]].

    a niche in the pavement,
black hat head-spun southward
              onlooker

in glassy trill, the din of clock &
        springtime sprig snap
or that of an existing wound--
            intimate passerby:

     a shadow musician
accustomed to striking bow
along alley corridors


with hands & heart you
      greet him
   expecting a great
   performance;
 a spectacle

     you’ve only once
         encountered

from a bird, dusky nightingale,
     who sung mournfully
     through the salty spray
              of the sea.