an index of things found under my fingernails:
blood, like that time i pulled a nail into the quick, or hit my finger with the hammer, oh, or when i put a staple in my nail;
brownie batter, whenever brownies are being made;
clay, every tuesday night, some saturdays;
ear wax, van gogh’s;
enlightenment, from that time i was able to really just let go of my attachments when i realized that i was just going to die anyway and why hold on to things that aren’t really going to last forever, because, what does forever even mean;
grease, from the routine deathbot maintenance;
guilt, the heavy kind, won’t come out with soap;
laser burns, see grease, above;
murder, well, intent anyway;
prehistoric dinosaur dna, from that time i time travelled or “accidentally” touched the t-rex exhibit, can’t remember;
skin, every single day, sometimes post-shower, not always my own;
zen, see enlightenment, above;
——
Words and Feathers 
You can open your own curiosity shop with what you’ve found under your nails!
Pretty sure no one wants to buy that stuff. Maybe a museum.
Great mix of the prosaic and the profound, the enigmatic and the incidental!
I like that you number your poems instead of name them. It made me think… naming them can take something away from them by attempting to define them. A title gives the reader something to grasp and consider before they even read the poem, and creates a box for them to try to fit it into. Reading your poetry is like flying blind, not knowing what’s around the next bend, and I absolutely love that.
Thanks very much. That’s one reason I don’t title them. Also, I’m lazy and I would give them ridiculous titles since I try to write a poem everyday.
Love your name!
Yeah, I imagine the names would have to be spectacularly insane after so many poems. And thank you! The raven is my spirit animal. 🙂 I like crows, too, though – part of the reason I chanced upon your awesome site, here.
Birds of a feather.