Where small birds fall starving from the sky
in their thousands —
Somali birds, Yemeni birds, Haitian birds, Syrian birds,
So many birds,
Where a cricket sings —
battery almost drained,
There it’s 11:55PM and the only dream left
is in the scrawlings of my hand
outstretched from oxen-weary path,
from mountainous sleep.
Do you recognize me?
I fantasized a gold-leafed planet,
the one I couldn’t see crumbling.
Now my passage back to safety is almost blocked.
Soon comes the unrestrained fire squawl and
lower frequencies of hope
(that ultimate of curses)
more trauma in their wake.
Already the first of the battering winds caress a feather
as though it were their child.
In this dying
look to what will survive of you, of us.
Tend your garden.
Jan Dove winter of 2020
This book is made of the digital drawings, prints, photographs and writings of Jan Dove. It is pigment printed on Canson Rag Photographique with Tyvex hinges. Size: 4″ x 4″ x 1.5″ opens to a variety of sizes, maximum of 20.5″ x 25.5″ x .125″.
The construction is an accordion variant and represents the “Boutrophedon”, the path of the oxen. The font was chosen for its name, Futura.