Tuesday, August 19, 2014

From The Mouths Of Crows

From the mouths of crows came a second sun,
pinned to the sky by a minor bureaucrat filled with holy half-light.
Marie Antoinette stepped out of a suitcase and asked, where is the other one?
The first one, and why is the jug painted blue and the sky painted white?

Did I say crows? They were not crows.
They were emblems made of ash, blowing themselves into new glass.
This is the kind of mistake I've been making, wearing the wrong clothes,
and going around selling blank subscriptions, riding on an ass.

I wept because there were pear blossoms.
I wept because it rained and a splintered bench curled green stems from itself.
Crows memorized my face, for reasons of their own.

Under a second sun, a second spring,
false, crafty, from which I hid in the shadows between ivy leaves.
A city worker collected blood from the pavement. I heard a cardinal sing.
See the light in bands, refracted. See how the night, resurrected, weaves.

I wept because wandering dogs were removed by ordinance.
I wept because they had blessed my cold sleep with their simple comfort.
In the morning, the crows in their kindness gave me back my face,

then flew away
forming circles
like smoke rings.
______


 

8 comments:

hedgewitch said...

This reminds me of Lorca, and of the way the mind bobs on a dark sea tide, washing shores we can't define any more than smoke defines fire.

Cloudia said...

You are my latter day Dylan

I don't know why you aren't venerated

ALOHA from Honolulu
ComfortSpiral
=^..^= . <3 . >< } } (°>

Shadow said...

there's a wave on it's way and it's crashing...

Sioux said...

Shay--The images you create are so rich and so pristine...

Kerry O'Connor said...

This is very beautiful, Shay. I see the sensitive soul of the poet, who feels as well as sees, and the dichotomy of being caught in a prosaic world.

G-Man said...

What was Marie Antoinette doing in a suitcase in the first place?
I sometimes wish I had a poetic mind....(sigh)
Heres my hankie, please dry those beautiful eyes...G

Mama Zen said...

This is just stunning.

Sara said...

The imagery in this poem is absolutely gorgeous as only you can make it.

This poem makes me feel kind of sad, like looking at a beautiful sunset, knowing it will have to end.