On Writing Poetry, like a Woodpecker

You can start with the rare,

Felt sense of luminosity

Flickering in your bowels

And give it a place in the forest:

A lake of light off the path

Pooling up to your knees

Until they give out at the honor.

This is also known as the

Poetic command of ventriloquism

Let me explain if I can, how

The forest [poem] is quiet until

The pain of pleasure itself drums like

The Bird, going crak-crak-crak

At the soul to find residency, or food,

Or to make life from these wooden words,

Pecked deliberately on the page.