Urban Crows

Infallible routine, impeccable timing...

The brotherhood of crows in their
early evening flight.
These are the rotund shadowed moons
that gawk and gallop about concrete streets
feeding on our poisoned bread.

In the evening, stout communication
and godspeed,
they return to their urban roost.

Voluptuous ballerinas covered in soot.
Your grace inhibited on earth seems only realized in swift motion.

This honorable and redundant journey provokes responses of gleeful awe and subsequently a need for devotional words and phrases.

What can we offer you in the form of libations or litanies?

Because our own ill-fated relationship with time inspires shame.
It is we, that must have the experience of you.
You are flying.
We have failed. We fall short.
You hop off rooftops, undaunted.

Why can’t you just be a crow?

And yet I still wait for you,
with ferocious eyes and misunderstanding.
And I recall the words of an elderly man in the hallway,
He is watching the cars go by at dusk,
We have to do something.

cow patty

We are fellow travelers
and when we meet we learn to listen

That hate is a cow patty with tire tracks
running through it
she said
and it's been so long all her life
and her face is an injured eagle

time has passed and the
cow patty
is an
asphalt continent
creaking and cracking and groaning
oh,
it's breaking away from
its raft

And when you meet a fellow traveler you hug her

cradled in the arms
of a mother bear
we were safe as houses

A fellow traveler
She said
god is the space between us
right now
while we're in these chairs
while we're holding hands
and we're not thinking
about our
empty glasses

When I saw these eyes that I had known
and the fellow traveler
he said
You are your fathers daughter
and before you leap away little one
just as you're used to
take my arm.
What will you remember tonight?
My fellow traveler
you are still here

When you meet a fellow traveler
don't you hate her just because her hands appear useless
abandoned to daydreams of tasks
eyes that once were chimes
now sit as
empty catacombs

and

try not to hate him.....
he's as frail as a poisoned fairy
pursued by angry tumbleweeds
though he believes
his hands are useful
oh dear
yes he does,
and they're holding pretty words
while they
wait

well,

maybe
when you meet a fellow traveler

you might drop your weary shoulders
and let your jaw become soft

even if your mouth is wired
even if you know
even if you're right

we just need you
and
we just met.

dogwood

Now do not be distracted

One can't promise the spring blooms
will listlessly fall into your lap
whispering
with the elongated sighs
of the wind
here we are always

Do not be distracted

One can't misuse a day
of blah
blah blah
blah blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah
yes
Do not be distracted

The story is painful
As forests animal forms
children parents
shoes schools markets
and flags
exploded with mechanical contempt
transformed to heated ash
a brother, with a firm hand
on the shoulder
of a brother
speaks deliberately,
-You must look-
And do not be distracted

The story is soft
and cloudy with feathers of a
golden goose
and horses that
dance on water
dipped hyacinth
night blooming jasmine surround
the guarded meadow parties
lit with music
endless beverages
and intricately decorated treats
both sweet and savory......
still and still
and
still
Do not be distracted

Perhaps
the devil is the cat peering from behind the heater vent
and faces of terrible ghosts stare glacially through
the linoleum
and "Oh what fun it is to ride
as she'll be coming around the mountain!"
Can you repeat?

Now
do not be distracted

And one can't promise
and
one
can't
promise
We can not promise
yes...

Please
Do not be distracted

Strong Bridge

One evening, I went walking.
I remember that it was a night filled with mist and blooms of light from hundreds of city lanterns.
Walking along a strong bridge, dipped in fog, blurred images passed my eyes as fractured language swirled through the river's damp in a sorrowful song..
"By and by I shall meet you by and by my dear,
where gusts of silver-hued river spiral down, down, down,
By and By I shall meet you, bye and bye..."
Then the faces of the little girls danced before me,
just as it was many years before.
"Catch me!, Catch me!"
we're birds flying,
dancing
and as our feet touch down
we only softly graze the swords that
lay in crosses.
"By and by I shall meet you bye and bye little one,
where clouded waves thunder
the mist rises from the foam
and bony fingers from the Cypress
field the solemn touch,
By and by I shall meet you by and by."
And then there was a little form,
perched comfortably on the railing,
a pot-bellied barn owl purred to me,
"Hey there girl, don't you know
that those men there,
will breeeaaaakkkkk
yeeerrrrrrrr
boooooooooooones!!!!!"
Blink
Damn it.
and from below,
"By and by I will meet you by and by my dear,
at the tree felled by the rainstorm
where we crossed
with shaky hearts
we held hands, do you remember?
by and by I shall meet you by and by.."
As my feet slumbered on
I bent forward and
with dull force
picked and gathered the
bruised petals from the soaked concrete.
I grow weary that there are new ways to grieve.