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Mar 16 · 121
The Song of the Crow
daycrow Mar 16
The song of the winter crow rings-
heavy and mournful and slow.
So loud and long a song he sings,
but such is the way of the crow.

"Look up, look out," he cries aloft,
with a voice neither sweet nor soft;
with a wing-tip flick he glides below
and lands in the drifted snow.

Above, a storm yet to storm-
below, a tree yet to sprout.
Night-time ice slowly starting to form
and the crow, wheeling about.
a poor robert frost imitation
Mar 9 · 28
daycrow Mar 9
only two feathers remain
to remind you.
white pinions, almost angelic,
except for the black at the tips.
they remind you of the prisoner-
the great merrel-
chained by his ankle to the rafters.

you're growing your hair out.
the curl is more mild
than it was when you were a child;
at last you have a use for those ribbons.

his wing was broken on a hunt many years ago.
time heals all wounds,
except when it doesn't.
he told you he could eke one more flight out of it,
if he had to.
he knew he would die when he stooped.
he knew he would die in that one fell swoop.

but you were drowning.
it was your destiny to die,
and whether or not it makes you cry,
he used his last flight to save you.

only two feathers remain
to remind you.
white pinions, oddly bucolic,
except for the red near the quills.
they remind you of the hunter-
the poor merrel-
diving into the ocean once more.
spindle's end
daycrow Feb 23
have you ever eaten stale popcorn?
have you ever smudged perfectly straight pen lines?
reached, and fallen short?
have you ever bruised both of your heels?
(yes, you have; i know.)

have you ever felt the aching pulse of a sunburn?
the one that feels good as it stings,
the one that keeps you warm at night
and dulls the points of life with delirium?

last summer i watched the sun rise every weekday
and came home smelling like sweat and chlorine.
my fingers wrinkled like peach pits, and the wind dried my hair.
sometimes i showered; sometimes i didn't.

i would carry my great-grandmother's quilt to the backyard,
and lay it in the shade of the tree i helped plant four years ago;
i would lay in the grass,
and sleep on my face.
i was exhausted. more tired than i'd ever been in my life, it felt like.

was i happy?
i don't know.
but i miss that summer.

have you ever watched or felt the pelt of a storm from afar?
heard the thunder purr?
seen the lightning pounce?
have you seen a deluge mask the horizon?
have you seen the storm brew, and yet pass you by?
(perhaps, perhaps not)

depending on who you asked, it was the end of the world.
in my sleepy town,
we only  pretended to care;
instead as the sun set,
we built faces in the sand.
i could barely stay awake after dusk.
(it's harder to appreciate the night when you know you have to see the dawn)

do you miss the county fair?
do you miss playing bottle cap checkers and chalk?
do you miss waking up to the radio?
do you miss what used to be,
the same way that i miss popcorn, the pool, and my peach tree?
it carries such a deep melancholy; even when i lived it, it was bittersweet. lord, don't let time take this from me.
Feb 23 · 43
cruel temptation
daycrow Feb 23
lately the sunsets have been lingering.
they pool on the mountaintops,
seeping into the clouds like sticky drops
of strawberry lemonade;
they pool at my feet, inviting me to swim.

it's a cruel temptation, if only because
it would be such a sweet sensation.
oh, how i love to swim.
Feb 12 · 16
witch of agnesi
daycrow Feb 12
there's a problem here that no tangential line can solve
(no tangible line, either);
the line that I walk is a slippery ***** between
two parallel paths, equal yet opposite;
we're divided.
half of us seem to have derived
that our doom is contrived, and that
multiple factors may have no effect on this at all.

each time I listen to this song, i swear i lose a fraction of my life.

between fervent lists and perfect fifths,
and desperate eight note scales.

the other half of us are still striving-
and deriving-
to find the peak of the function, the sum of it all,
the y-intercept, the independent variable
and the absolute value of walking
(disregarding the negative; waking, sleeping, talking)
when, regardless,
mistranslations and misconstructions will leave us wrong in the end.
Feb 9 · 236
where you'll be
daycrow Feb 9
when push come to shove,
and hate comes to love,
that's where i'll find you.

as soon as the moon,
and as far as the stars.
that's where you'll be.
daycrow Feb 5
Here's the thing-
there are days when I'm barely alive,
and there are days where can't stand being still.
There are people,
people who I fear, and at the same time
love more and more every day.
Every time it's the same-
I see a little deeper into each pair of eyes,
and I can't get them out of my mind.
If I never say "I love you,"
I'm sorry. Because I do;
even though I'm a stranger,
I'd live for you.
something I just learned about you has me wishing I knew so much more.
Jan 23 · 235
besides myself
daycrow Jan 23
i haven't lost anyone lately
(besides myself)
but still i feel lonely;
can't hold on to used-to-be's,
but it's not that easy.
i was always afraid i'd never change.
so afraid, in fact,
that i didn't realize i was afraid of changing.
indie anthems from 2001 that still slap
Jan 20 · 58
my city
daycrow Jan 20
Gun to the lips;
Hair jagged at the tips
and socks with rips;

Soft scissor-snips;
Icy white-knuckle grips
and sweat that drips;

Storm-cloud eclipse;
Shattered, scattered glass chips
And a gun to the lips.
doesn't it hurt? will it ever stop? do you even want it to?
daycrow Dec 2020
haven't felt it this way since he died.
maybe it's grief,
the way i mourn the change.
maybe it's envy,
though i know that sounds strange-
but i think that it's fear
though i've grown and i've learned,
what if i'm meant to cross bridges i've burned?
Dec 2020 · 464
bitter like winter
daycrow Dec 2020
i remember the last time i felt in extremes. i remember
the sun and the moon,
hanging in balance between pendulum eyes.
i remember when i felt fine. better yet, i remember
when i wanted to feel
anything, sad or happy, and wanted it to last.
i remember when i dreamed of people who didn't,
and places that lasted,
and people to call and places to be,
even if only once.
now i love the cold,
and i stand outside with wet hair,
and watch my breath swirl around me like feathers in the breeze.
my fingers are cold,
but i like the burn.
i don't want to get better.
Dec 2020 · 324
to be a crow
daycrow Dec 2020
to be a crow, and fly on a whim
to every hidden place, every ocean rim
and tree-branch limb;
free to examine every carcase and doe
that falls below-
oh, to be a crow!
Nov 2020 · 446
daycrow Nov 2020
hello, my nightbird.
did you sing your song today?
did they hear your dawn lullaby,
or did they kick you away?

the fault was never yours to begin with;
earth crumbles beneath my feet day after day,
but you flit
and feel no need to stay.

and that's fine. i mean it
when i say,
"i wouldn't have it any other way."
i meant it then, and i mean it now. have you seen the depths in your eyes? i've drowned in them before.
Nov 2020 · 50
variations on change
daycrow Nov 2020
to be a youth , and not know the pain
of letting go , true, but also the sting
the burn of the rain ,
that runs down your skin and reminds you again

to be a queen , and not know the loss
that hangs heavy over each cottage door -
draped like wash - day sheets ;
not white , not black , but something all the same

to be a crow , and fly on a whim
to every hidden place , every ocean rim
and tree - branch limb ;
free to examine every carcase and doe
that falls below -
oh , to be a crow !
o h   ,   t o    b e    a    c r o w   !
daycrow Nov 2020
today is
the precipice
before the jump,
and tomorrow
is the jump
before the plummet;
that is when
i will learn

if i will fall
or if i will fly
Oct 2020 · 49
the eld
daycrow Oct 2020
i don't want to drift with a mayfly;
i want to hiss and claw like the queencat
that sings in alley halls late at night so that
the whole neighborhood echoes with
her anguished caterwauls.
i don't want to settle down slowly;
i want to drive away still, and run
up mountains to touch the sky ceiling,
and chase that never-ending
inarticulate rosebud feeling.
i don't want to watch me suffocate;
heaven knows i've tried my best
unless i never did, and if that's the case
then i'll yield now. better that then to grow
old, and forget what it's like to be a kid.
e. e. cummings inspired this
Oct 2020 · 215
daycrow Oct 2020
I saw a shadow linger in day,
after all others had fled away.
I glanced back around, when to my surprise,
I saw that the shadow had eyes.
It shuddered and leapt, then blinked once more
as if to say, "You've seen me before."
It's true that the sight was one I should know;
the shadow I saw was a crow.
my username origin story. also inspired by robert frost

write a poem about your username and use the tag username2020 just for kicks
Oct 2020 · 101
daycrow Oct 2020
I was a good friend,
   and a bad one.
I was a day child,
   and a night one.
It rained and the sun shone,
I wasted time on my phone;
      I was friendly,
         and I was alone.
I was in love,
   and I was afraid.
I shouted hello,
   I knelt down and prayed.
I cried for the dead,
I said what I said;
      I thought about leaving,
         but I stayed instead.
it's all in my head.
Oct 2020 · 123
night music
daycrow Oct 2020
wing-teeth songs,
played by cricket maestros-
night music.
what better name for
a song that sends an ache through the molars? a song,
a memory,
a ringing wing-tooth melody?
Sep 2020 · 47
daycrow Sep 2020
drifting dust mite
floats through sunlight
shines as bright as
stars in the night
Sep 2020 · 39
daycrow Sep 2020
the sky looks down with watery eyes
and shivering winds that pass for deep sighs
and all the world is soaked in her tears
as she mourns the passing of thousands of years
Sep 2020 · 56
daycrow Sep 2020
should I stand back and leave it to chance,
and do nothing save give a withering glance?
or should I desperately make a choice,
shouting and singing with god-given voice?
Sep 2020 · 125
daycrow Sep 2020
yeah, im getting older.
don’t like to dwell on it.
the older we get, the more things change-
it’s true.
just gotta learn to
roll with the punches,
take it and run with it.
haven’t let much faze me, lately;
all these apocalypses have worn me out,
and the more i learn about miracular chemistry,
the more i suspect it’s a molecule.
even the stars get old,
but they don’t dwell on it.
they blow up,
or they fade out.
haha i hope this exudes the right vibes
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