Ogden and the Bird

Is there a bird upon my back?
	All non-chalant with feathers black?
	And in his eye that look of lacking
	any real wits?

I've spoke to him not fewer than
	8 or 9 occasions
	and tired to ascertain the thoughts
	that walnut brain of his has caught
	within its tiny gnashing gears
	that rather like him standing here
	but nothing seems to break through clear
	his tiny birdy fog.

So though I shoo him when he's near
	doubtless he will reappear.
	He always has, he preservers.
	He's resolute, consumed, austere.
	But if one day I turned to rear
	and looked and he did not appear,
	pretty sure I'd shed a tear,
	and miss him.