johnsonboy

Talking To The Crows


suppose I walk exclusively backward
reciting parables and innuendo
wind in my head thinking of insults

as crows move interestingly near
forming a text message overhead
out of broken tumultmurder!

I wonder if I might speak. Listen
they stitch an outline of how else it might be
but isn't, and caw stubbornly.

what if my language were one word,
I guess I'd choose penetration
it's in my nature

but I can't think straight and claim
all the language there is, there aren't
words for many things.

I think the crows have sorcery in their pockets
but no amulets, they can't carry
more than their own breath.

If my heart was limp I don't think a crow
would do more than hop
with a grudge and eye me.

When I carry on it's embarrassing
to look back on but crows
tell me not to.

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I really have no idea what to think about this one. Does it make any sense at all?

My personal life has been so boring lately there's no point in talking about it.

That's not really bad though.