corvid dreams

endless december he said
staying in to avoid the hard 
darkfall. nautical 
weather has arrived 
made sailors of us 
all. tidal clouds 
unscarved me on 
slate tongue tunnels 
straight through 
the leafletted ash 
of unplanned city 
silences. i am 
followed by rogue 
sky, repeat 
to increment what was 
too fleeting to grasp
on this epiphany escalator, 
take me to the next floor, 
i'm done 
shopping here and also 
done knocking on 
rocks for notes to discover those 
enslaved with prehistoric 
marimba, dreaming, 
gathering antique shadows 
worn like the night's 
cool cloak. i am a crow 
who has learned to collect 
the pebbles of his thoughts 
to fill the jar. i have passed 
aesop's test.

the day after the day after

walking home from the cafe
almost noon but the sky no brighter 
the day after the day after 
christmas is ash cold. 
i just stole a picture, 
a flower i was surprised to find, 
a flower emerging from 
cracked concrete stairs, 
as if the effort to blossom 
through concrete had hardened 
its resolve to continue 
blossoming through- 
kneeling where it hovered 
above the lichen splotched steps, 
i look up at a crow 
perched on one of several 
diagonally crossing wires, '
pause to admire the symmetry, 
wonder if they appreciate such things,
and notice, suddenly, the rest of those 
dark pauses scattered indiscriminately among 
gnarled limbs, crossing wires, rooftop edges 
and realize that the peculiar feeling i just had 
was the sensation of being observed 
by a quiet aerial collective 
and then the entire murder 
lifts, in a few strong flaps, toward the soft low sky 
as if all the commas in a story you were reading 
abandoned the page together and all at once
as the mechanical gate of the oregon institute for 
clinical investigations slowly & quite dramatically 

opens 
and i laugh out loud. 

eve of the darkest day

black roots twisted up-
ended, the stripping's
completed drip
sculpture wears its
violent blue rain on
the eve of the darkest
day her joy
relented her
misery was pure
twang-
what will you do
when it's too dark to see
through this aquatic day?

*

beauty gash
some petite feathered thing
shivers in the drip cage
among the more feral pine
elderly elm waves a fern
boa, its blinged fingers
studded with the sky's
ones & zeroes
triangular hints of baby
blue
blink through the languid
droop of the tangled
limb maze skeins
the tidal cloud
pillow stars emerge from
this sultry stew

when you don't want to emerge from the warmth

when you don't want to emerge from

the warmth you have hoarded when

it's winter and you don't

have time for the usual

and you don't have time

to shoot the couple

playing with their little dog

fenced in gorgeous sun-

light hurries you up

the empty street wondering

why am i the only one

and almost miss the abandoned

cardboard sign on the grass says

help

i'm homeless

and forty
help

and you don't have time to be

pierced like that

when it's morning,

when it's winter,

and you don't want to emerge from

the warmth you have hoarded.