Author: crow

I'm a writer and a dabbler. I live in Southern California.

Poem 20150517

crow

leaving the airport
was like leaving any
airport
though the scenery
had more cactus
and more drought tolerant plants
than where we’re from
but otherwise
the scenery didn’t seem that
different
just another town
that looks like it’s stuck
in the time period
it was built
as all those other
suburban sprawling
time-stuck towns

until

you turn

a curve

and it’s like they
made the road
that way on purpose
a magician carefully
choreographing
a trick
to make your jaw hit the floor

and suddenly
the desert is foreign
and like love
it is beautiful
and terrifying
and overwhelming
like you’re traveling
through a movie set
a painting
someting you’ve seen
a thousand times
but flattened out before

and now
it looms
and now
it takes you
and you want
it to

Poem 20150516

crow

tomorrow we
fling ourselves
into the sky
into a red
ocean of sand
into the arms
of grey green
embraces

those sands
those rocks
the breezes whisper
over them
they dial
your cell phone
a call from
an unknown number
and you want to walk out
into the sea
though
you have never set foot
in a desert

Poem 20150513b

crow

recycle everything
squeeze the last drop out
like you’re rolling up the end of
a tube of toothpaste
or wringing out a wet dishrag
use a spatula to scrape around
the inside of the skull
and your finger when the spatula
isn’t flexible enough
collect it all in a pile
so that you can sort through
the oozing grey matter
searching for any idea or word
overlooked
or not used to the point of
frayed edges and
blurred meanings

Poem 20150513

crow

swiftly moving clouds filled the sky
our hands were coated with clay
as we tried to answer the question why
before the ending of the day

this thing before us, so like a man
seemed all but to move, yet lacking breath
stayed still upon the earth–you began
to mourn a life that could not know death

since it had not yet been alive
these tears fell upon its eyes, washing them clear
it rose and and walked and began to thrive
and faced the sunset without fear

and you and i, still holding hands
watched it leave for greener lands

Poem 20150512

crow

according to my high school
biology teacher
we are mostly water

sacks of salty liquid refreshment
a little fat
a little meat
some gristle and bones

but even the meat and bones
are mostly water
and if you could siphon that off
maybe reclaim the water
for the drought
and apply enough pressure and time
to the bones and powder-soft organs
we would all be diamonds
shiny, hard scintillating gems

Poem 20150510

crow

we shake the tree
and fruit
one single piece falls
it lands with a solid thump
in the grass
rolls in a half circle
and stops at our feet

it’s enough to share
and we do
but it tastes bitter
i choke down a bite
she chokes down hers

how is it, i ask

she grimaces but says, it’s good
don’t you think so, too

so this is a lie, i think
swallowing another awful bite
i think it’s great, i say,
better than anything else we’ve had

but i think about the false
sentiments in advertising
and how this is going to come back
and bite us in the ass

Poem 20150509

crow

too much twitching
–a damaged seventh cranial nerve
thank god it wasn’t the fifth–
squeezes like a vise on the temples
just like uncle fester
only not funny
and pressures the ear
so that you hear the ocean

the throbbing of the sunlight
early in the morning
hits the eyes
even coming from behind

and the malevolent glare of brake lights
of the cars on the 405
well, that just adds menace

like a spider it stretches its legs
at the back of the neck
and crawls over the scalp
and drives hairy fingers
right behind the eyes

the throbbing behind my eyes
is the pulse in my head