RUFOUS HUMMINGBIRD

Selasphorus rufus

Dear Albuquerque Garden Center,

Last month I purchased a hummingbird feeder

for $19.95. It was just like the original Lawrence J. Webster

designed for his wife in Boston in 1929. I filled the feeder

with one part refined white sugar and four parts water.

Well, the homemade nectar has fermented in the July heat

and all the little birds swerve in the sky. They’re saying

the present doesn’t exist. What is a current moment

when your heart beats 1200 times per minute?

As Janis said from the train, Tomorrow never happens.

It’s all the same fucking day, man. Birds got their own

ball and chain. For the hummingbirds, it’s an improv

of locating yourself. Please hurry. Don’t walk.

Fly with 53 wingbeats per second, all in a figure 8,

a flapping Möbius strip. They’ve broken through infinity.

If your unshaven face flushes red with drink,

they’ll join you on the patio. They buzz by your ears

with sayings about the space-time, typically called “now,”

and ask you to ask yourself, “When am I?” When

you perceive the present, it’s already a recollection.

The rufous and I send you this thank you note

from the past; we will recommend the Webster feeder to all

our immediate friends who are happening over, over again.

by Amaris Feland Ketcham

—from Rattle #50, Winter 2015

(PS: Mine is not the Selasphorous humming bird – those are red. It’s the plain Rufous.)

Since today was easy on the eyes and brain, music is going to be a bit more demanding. Truly interesting, though. A compilation of electronic music by Peruvian composers between the mid 60s and 80s.