Text Box: Poetic Recipe Or What Ornithologists Hear As Bird You should never overcook your poem or burn your poem Or half bake your poem letting its insides go runny because there is spiritual batter that lays in it like nine good words from a ten worded man—you see a ten worded man knows that he has to save one word for himself and that’s the last word s/he can say. You know the last word? It isn’t the one that comes as final after the foremost have ended. It’s the one in your heart. The one that rolls down your cheek. The one that lumps in your throat like a fat warbler. When we listen to the bird we do not hear its feathers. ©2005 Dan Kantak