Arthur Ginsberg

Tipton Poetry Journal – Spring 2021

Murmuration

Arthur Ginsberg

I catch in mid-morning flight a burnished black unison of wings, a seraphim angel guarding God’s throne air brushed across the sky, that pivots as one through sun-split clouds, and sweeps smooth into the next angle against the wind stream on high, wheels and weaves as one balletic wing through sizzled air, driven by silent commands.

We are a swarm ourselves, a shape-shifting harmony that is a state of grace, driven by inner swirlings at the edge of a dusky subconscious, mirrored like birds against the sky. To be close to the other, but not so close as to collide. When was cohesion lost? When we hoarded fire, snapped our teeth on animal bones, savaged ourselves with twisted tongues, set a crown upon our brains?

Science opines that every seventh Starling signals its comrade a time to turn, as when a platoon on parade abruptly shifts direction. Thus, the entire flock follows; seven upon seven upon seven… In this mid-morning delirium of precision, I stay rooted to earth gazing up, and exalt every divine thing I do not believe in. Stay until that dark shadow no longer shapes my vision.

Arthur Ginsberg is a neurologist and poet based in Seattle. He has studied poetry at the University of Washington and at Squaw Valley, with Galway Kinnell, Sharon Olds, and Lucille Clifton. Recent work appears in the anthologies, Blood and Bone, and Primary Care, from University of Iowa Press. He was awarded the William Stafford prize in 2003. He attained an MFA degree in creative writing in July 2010 from Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon where he studied with Dorianne Laux, Marvin Bell and David St. John. His book, The Anatomist, was published in the summer of 2013. A second book, Brain Works has just been released by David Roberts Books. He currently teaches a course, titled, “Brain and the Healing Power of Poetry” at the University of Washington.