Bukowski's Bluebird

Not only words in his mouth
but what look like feathers,
clamped tight in his teeth
like an anxious gambler's cigarette.
Cat eyed and smiling at the bar,
he caught beauty perched on a stool
and swallowed it in one bite.
Now odd notes issue from his throat.
His words come out as songs.

This is my answer to the poetry challenge posted by Be Not Inhospitable to Strangers to write something in response to Charles Bukowski's Bluebird.