XIV                                                                                 XIX
It was snowing                                                            At the sight of blackbirds
When the blackbird flew out of sight                      Why do you imagine golden birds?
Among twenty snowy mountains.
XX
XV                                                                                  Once, a fear pierced him:
I was of three minds                                                   Traced in the shadow
In which there are three blackbirds                         Of one of many circles
And lucid, inescapable rhythms . . .                         Was the eye of the blackbird.
The beauty of inflections.
XXI
XVI                                                                                 The river is moving
The blackbird whirled in the autumn                       For blackbirds —
winds.                                                                     An indecipherable cause.
But I know, too,
The blackbird sat                                                        XXII
In the cedar limbs.                                                      It was evening all afternoon.
Icicles filled the long window
XVII                                                                                And it was going to snow.
A man and a woman.                                                 The blackbird must be flying.
A man and a woman and a blackbird.

XVIII
I do not know which to prefer,
The shadow of the blackbird
Or the beauty of innuendoes.

Bill Waters, 2015

Remixed work:
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird, by Wallace Stevens