Two Poems from Ornithoncology

B.J. Best

Apparently one should call them caterpillars, not creepy hair worms. Everyone’s so PC these days. I’m running Windows 7 and would like to accept your end user license agreement. Every keyboard I’ve known told me, Honey, I like your type. I say tomäto. You say aubergine. All the birds that sang while you spent a month dying on the couch say hello. Doctors say, I don’t know how to say this. But they do, and will.

Apparently you can neither create nor destroy water. Tell that to the brewpub that makes something called Baby Come Bock. You drink down radium just like Mme. Curie. Every town has a jukebox, an electrical heart, an EKG machine. Baby, you sure know how to tune a radio. Even the static is singing.


B.J. Best is the author of three books and five chapbooks, including Yes (Parallel Press, 2014). His fifth chapbook, Everything about Breathing, is newly available from Bent Paddle Press. He lives in Wisconsin.