https://tabjournal.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Tab_vol3.5_SEPT2015.pdf

They write themselves in the sky, the Secretary birds,
while New World vultures gaze down tube noses
to see a pin fowl feed its young on crop milk.
The gruiforme misfits, drab and button punk,
beneath the perfumed breath of the superficial doves
soaking their belly feathers in watery holes.
And my own, answeriformes, the screamers:
ducks, swan geese, screaming formally
behind my floating world on the never ending river.
All these families of strong flyers, auks and terns;
brilliant and gregarious, I’ve seen at parties
shrieking flight obscenities, toes front and back
snacking on the seeds of their own name.
Todies, motmots, rollers, whoopers and hornbills,
once naked and helpless before the great
dharma of evolution, ascend the swallowing ice,
to specialize in warm blood by sunset, rising at dawn with their own kind