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Sunday, June 26, 2016

Crow fury


Crow fury

in a flurried fury the crow rose – sunlight
shimmering on an ink tipped wing – from
sleep int-erupt-ess she rose blinking at
her window – a small girl watching a ripple
rise, swarm, sweep – hatred boiling in the
land as the crow rose and soared – to park
on a leaf rustling tree not too far off in the
sweet shadow of cool place – of peace –
the small girl – watched as the crow
vanished to a point and then was gone
and returned to her sweet bed to sleep

to dream and to wake to a new day coming









the drizzle of diamonds




the drizzle of diamonds

the sky used to drizzle diamonds
her face turned to heaven as she
stood infant in arms and whirled
good fortune at peak – now gone
to rot – weeping willowed roots
wrapping round her ankles on
the trail to the tunnel where ex-pat
mothers trudge seeking surcease
from the swift sickled saint, sur-
cease from those relentless
slashes of the soul - seeking
entrance to the black tunnel with-
out end - yet - there -through it all
in memory - manifested - ahead 
the drizzle of
diamonds
sparkling
still 





Friday, June 24, 2016

A craving poem: a regular day

a regular day
kneeling they fall
headless in blood
others stand above
posturing
pictures fades to black
voices chatter
here and there
it’s not just that
bloated bellied
children stare
with wide eyes
slashed puppies
from televisioned
eyes and screens
begging ... begging
and I
in witness bearing
madness do not
turn away or
toward …
I wake
to this sunshined
morning
flowers flaming
potted - planted
trees drift...
languidly as
words scream
and a group sits
all night emerging
fifty years before
Blasting the
gunfire that cannot
be silenced any longer
I long I long I long
for the regular day
when I lifted a mewling
infant to my breast
and curled together
on cool sheets
as milk flowed
in peace