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a black november turkey - john corigliano lyrics

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nine white chickens come
with haunchy walk and heads
jabbing among the chips, the chaff, the stones
and the cornhusk*shreds

and bit by bit infringe
a pond of dusty light
spectral in shadow until they bobbingly one
by one ignite

neither pale nor bright
the turkey*c*ck parades
through radiant squalors, darkly auspicious as
the ace of spades

himself his own cortége
and puffed with the pomp of death
rehearsing over and over with strangled râle
his latest breath

the vast black body floats
above the crossing knees
as a cloud ovеr thrashed branches, a calm ship
over choppy sеas

shuddering its fan and feathers
in fine soft clashes
with the cold sound that the wind makes, fondling
paper*ashes
the pale*blue bony head
set on its shepherd’s*crook
like a saint’s death*mask, turns a vague, superb
and timeless look

upon these clocking hens
and the c*cks that one by one
dawn after mortal dawn with vulgar joy
acclaim the sun

- john corigliano lyrics

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