On April 27, 2009, the poet Craig Arnold went missing on the Japanese island of Kuchinoerabujima, where he was working on a book on volcanoes. He was forty-one years old. Arnold's first book of poems, Shells, was selected for the Yale Series of Younger Poets in 1998, and his second, Made Flesh, was published last year by Copper Canyon Press. “A Ubiquity of Sparrows” is one of two poems by Arnold that appears in the Summer 2009 issue of The Paris Review.
A Ubiquity of Sparrows
A certain traveler who knew many continents was asked what he found most remarkable of all. He replied: the ubiquity of sparrows.
—Adam Zagejewski
Sparrow who drags a footlong crust of bread behind him
Sparrow whose head is pecked bald from so many quarrels
Sparrow who cocks her head to one side as if doubtful
Sparrow who follows every flick of your hands moving
Sparrow who spies from far off the flag of a shaken tablecloth
Sparrows dashing to any spot where sparrows are gathered
Sparrow beating her wings to haul off a strawberry
Sparrow bandito with black mask and bandanna who robs her
Sparrow the poet's lover keeps close in her lap
to make him jealous nipping her finger hard harder
Sparrow chasing a papery butterfly flapping and snapping
the butterfly each time impossibly escaping
the sparrow savage the sparrow persistent is there no mercy
Sparrow chick pinfeathered hunched on the window ledge
Sparrow roasted over a piece of bread to catch the entrails
Sparrow whose feet barely sway the twig of a willow
who leaps into the air with the smallest of leaf-shivers
Sparrow the color of dust and mud and dry grass-stems
Sparrows kept on the wing by farmers banging saucepans
kept flying until they drop a soft heap of bodies
Sparrow who says cheap sparrow who says Philip Philip
Sparrow who keeps the secrets of wistful men and women
Sparrow shot with a pellet gun sparrow who crackles
under a boy's bootsole like brown October leaves
Sparrow whose fall from the sky is noticed by what god
Sparrow who squats in the bluebird's nest in the martin houses
who moves in with a gang of thugs and there goes the neighborhood
Sparrow who shot Cock Robin and later was hanged like a thief
Sparrow astray in the airport tracked by the one-eyed guns
Sparrow said to have brought the English unto belief
Sparrow who came to the king's hall in the midst of a snowstorm
fluttering in through one window and out of another
Sparrow do you imagine more than a little warm
rambunctious life between two corridors of nothing
the one forever before the one forever after
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