The Third Fruit is a Bird

The Third Fruit is a Bird is my third collection of poetry. It’s a 24-page chapbook with a nifty transparent flyleaf thingy.

Poems included in this collection include “Spider-Sense”, “You Should Have Killed the Monkey First”, “Mothwing Kiss”, “Pissing off Ezra”, “Infinity Plus One”  and “Advice no. 34”. A lot of them are about superheroes and love, sometimes both.

The cover was designed by my most excellent brother, Hugh Ford, who has his own website celebrating his artistic endeavours.

If you rely on others’ opinions to formulate your own, you might be interested that Gem from Grace Notes once said “Adam Ford’s The Third Fruit Is A Bird is a charming little work.” and “Ford is writing the light hearted ditties that I’d love to be able to write.”

You can buy a copy of The Third Fruit is a Bird for $A5.00  simply by clicking on the “Add to Cart” button underneath the cover image up there.

And here’s a sample poem:


Mothwing Kiss

I dreamed the kiss of moth wings on my cheek
and woke to find a pair against my back,
each one an inch above my shoulderblade,

each one as soft as breath against my skin.
I stood. The tips reached almost to my waist.
I felt a strength beneath their velvet touch.

I felt a little strange next morning as
I dressed before the mirror in my room
and watched their pattern shifting in the light,

and watched them with my head turned as I flexed
and spread them out as wide as they would go,
then tucked them back to run along my spine,

then tucked them in my shirt to hold them close
beneath my clothes. I kept them to myself
all day at work, a secret from the world.

All day at work I felt them there, their warmth.
They trembled in their hiding-place as soft
As moonlight, curving snug against my back.

As moonlight filters through the evening air
some instinct makes them strain against my shirt
Insisting that I take myself outside

Insisting that I spread them wide apart,
Stand naked to the waist in evening air,
Embrace the gentle pulling of the moon,

Embrace the wind, the night and all the stars,
Stand tiptoe as my wings begin to stir
Not lifting me, but lightening my step.

Not lifting me, but strong enough to make
me stand a little taller than I would,
enough to give my back a straighter line,

enough to make the shadow that I cast
look like the man that I would like to be:
a man with wings beneath a cloudless sky.

Other poems from The Third Fruit is a Bird can be found within the “The Third Fruit is a Bird” category.


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4 comments on “The Third Fruit is a Bird
  1. […] in just the right way,  I took full advantage of the mood and read a selection of poems from The Third Fruit is a Bird, stopping short of reading all of them. Hey – it’s 24 pages. That’s not a massive […]

  2. […] can be found on the pages of The Third Fruit is a Bird, available in the […]

  3. […] for any ill will I imbued this poem with. “Pissing Off Ezra” has also been published in The Third Fruit is a Bird and the employee newsletter of Addison-Wesley Longman (now Pearson […]

  4. […] Ford is the author of poetry collections The Third Fruit is a Bird, Not Quite the Man for the Job and From My Head. His first novel, Man Bites Dog, was published in […]

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ta-wit-ta-woo
Quelle Grammage!
only a fan of 2/3s of the folk in this pic but mesmerised by the story @angustrumble relates below it. . . . I watched last evening’s general election coverage (ABC, natch) in the company of a high Commonwealth official, among others in an undisclosed location, whose name, it soon emerged, may not appear on the electoral roll for reasons of national security. I confess that gave me a bit of a thrill. Canberra: Bless! However, it was also fascinating, extraordinary, in due course to witness that person’s several mobile phones evidently going bonkers, and the measured plans, contingencies, forecasts, blue books of an entire federal bureaucracy duly (one presumed) shredded, turned upside down, just like that. Nothing at all was said, I should emphasise. One simply observed the body language, which was moderately graphic. Whichever way you look at it, this has been an astounding personal victory for Prime Minister Scott Morrison. He believes in miracles, the sexy thing. Pre-polling methodologies in this country, meanwhile, have quite obviously met with serial unforced error on a colossal, epic scale. Who would ever pay them good money again? On my way home, I collided with the (ex-)campaign manager of one of the independent ACT Senate candidates who was alone, drunk and in despair. The campaign manager, that is, not the candidate. This was at about half past eleven on the corner of Jardine and Eyre Streets in Kingston, right next to the rubbish tin, you know, the rectangular green one. He told me he wanted to burn everything down, which was worrying enough, but then he suddenly hurled his mobile phone into the gutter—smashed it to bits—and staggered off into the night. I found myself wondering: Who would touch politics with a barge pole? I should add that this frightening encounter left me, literally, picking up his bits and bobs, then dutifully popping them in the bin. Responsible, me. Back home, I had a cuppa and played patience. I’m not kidding. . . . #Repost @angustrumble with @make_repost
A chance op shop encounter with this Death Liger Lion of Chaos duelmasters card case has done NOTHING to help my attempts to not buy one of this sucker’s namesake toys on ebay. #duelmasters #deathliger #deathligerlionofchaos #metalasfuck #toys
Thursday morning tableau
They come up after rain. I often wonder how they feel lying under the ground at right angles to their purpose. #chewton #railspike
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