Murder of Crows

January 12, 2008
By
He cannot drive because he is like this (move hands back in forth in a slithering motion)
You cannot walk because you are like this (fetal position)
I cannot see because I am like this (put mask on with closed eyes)
And the crows feed off the murder procured.

This sunflower is “clinically screwed up”, no mystery there
Its face shuns the Father lantern in the sky
Too afraid to see what might exist when it turns around
What isn’t missed in the eyes that are never found.

The way is narrow and covered with leaves
A precipice gapes its mouth to swallow the earth
No one has died (yet) at the end of the world
So, the noose hangs from the tree in a valley down the road.

They say they are scared of what needs to be said
And cower like brooms in the closet of death
The dust is collecting under their nails
As we leave the backdoor open

Hansel and Gretel masticated their sin.

A murder of crows ate the bread
They lie like stones in our bellies to track the head
Gather ‘round children and hear the tale
Of how running in circles, a hole entails.

In a forest, he swerves the van to miss the dog,
She swaggers away from the scene of the crime
And I lie to the police for the third time saying,
“What tree?”

The witch won this round of hide and deceit.
Never any treason in what Nature offers first.
It’s just you and me babe, how ‘bout it?





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