Tag: writer

raisins (20170524)

crow6 Comments

today is one
of those wordless days
when all the words
(and all the king’s men)
don’t do any good
remain buried
deep in the chest
like trying to pass
a hairball

from space
i have looked down
into the chasm
as it yawned
(here’s a bedtime story
and a glass of water)
and felt the void at my back
folded like raven’s wings

nothing stirred before
or behind
only me
in between
some kind of ridiculous meat bridge
between
thought and deed
desire and action
life and death
silence and more silence

here is one
of those wordless places
where the syllables dry up
grapes becoming raisins
under an invisible sun

something feathered (20170522)

crow13 Comments

she opens her mouth
a bird escapes
some magic trick

silent bird
with its beak
welded shut
by shame
by trauma

–haaaaaaaaaaaa–
the sound
you breathe out
through your mouth
the sound of wings

you can’t breathe and lie
at the same time, girl

——

for
dVerse ~ Poets Pub
dVerse Quadrille #33: Sound Off!

an impromptu visitation (20170517)

crow15 Comments

i hear a rustling
like dried leaves
caught in a hot wind
coming from the spare room

i surprise my father
in the act of changing clothes

though silent
he seems angry
mouth clenched closed
like a vise
eyes squinting in judgment

you know you’re dead, right?

next year
he will be one hundred years old
and has been haunting me
from house to house for almost
a quarter of that century

both he and the clothes
are transparent
and when i remind of
of his non-corporeal state
he loses the angry look

though burly in life
he shrugs his grave-thin shoulders
fades away
with the sound of a brittle page
of an old book being turned

scissors (20170516)

crow3 Comments

the invisible woman repeats numbers
like those soviet radio stations

my head fills with curvilinear
whorls of snail shells and fingerprints

the smell of cigarette smoke that is not
from a cigarette seeps into my garage

as i put clothes in the laundry basket–
–this night is coming to a close

and i am still knotted up like a boy
scout’s shoelaces

it will take a sharp pair of scissors
to release me

voices in flight (20170515)

crow7 Comments

consider the old saying
that every time a bell rings
an angel gets its wings

and think of all the times
you have heard a cash register chime
or the wall street stock exchange
or a fire alarm
or the low slow clangs of cowbells
as they are led to the slaughterhouse

what the hell are those angels making
their feathers out of
misery, greed, blood and fire?

i have always preferred birdsong
an earthly tune to be sure
unfettered yet surrounded by sky
even if it is all about territory
and sexual conquest
and where the best worms are

ice caps (20170511)

crow16 Comments

what if a genie offered
you a wish
something it swears
it wouldn’t fuck up for you
even though you know all genies
{except for barbara eden}
hate mankind

what if it offered an end
to hunger and climate change
every single human being would
have enough food
but it would be the blandest food ever

no going back
no supplementing
no more steaks
no more sundaes
no more s’mores
or apples
or peaches
or ice cream
or butter or cheese

just gray, tasteless crackers
that practically dissolve
on your tongue
too fast to get a sense
of whether they taste bad
or in fact taste at all

fat third world children
no sustenance farmers
not one single animal getting the axe
to feed a human being
ever again

all you have to do is say yes
to the little gray communion wafer
the genie is offering you

you get to decide
the genie says
no tricks
no twisty loopholes
no soylent green
waiting in the wings

a reformed genie
as affable as robin williams
and eager to save the human race
from starvation
and melting ice caps