Jikijitsu Zonotrichia albicollis Hops in shady dirt below Our kitchen window, picking out and pecking berries drooping— last seeds of summer inflorescence to attain nonattainment of bent branches, tumble to the ground Through the glass in the wall, I am Lethally embroiled in some monkey-mind misunderstanding with fine cookware, senseless globs of wanton ink, stray spiders, cruel logistics— when down he swoops and I'm whistle-walloped off my cushion, tumble to the ground Other times he'll find me in predawn ambush thundercrack of woodblocks, cheeks with honest wit of sleepy sunup waking icy basin warble splashed. Later on I'll meet him mopping planks on the veranda, raking leaves in the garden, gently ribbing pupils over radish, smoke, and rice. When we sit cloud-water, he leads from bushes chanting echo-voice of total corporeal nature until breath fructifies to form tickled as it tastes Cold Mountain creek. Educe: "Effortless discipline and clear understanding with integrity of the heart" He claps his blocks again and I can hear All birdsong sing. White-throated sparrow, For sesshin in the suburbs, Our jikijitsu.
For reference see Gary Snyder’s Spring Sesshin at Shokoku-ji and, well, think about bird poems. Again, still probably consider this a draft.