In the beginning
crows were
as white as snow.
No.
Whiter than that.
Liquid silver.

But in these times
we see Crow as black,
though you will observe
Crow is silver in the sun
(which proves my point).

And there he is
at the very top of
that hemlock tree.

Surveys his rude world
and sees below
one whose ancestors
were here even before
tricks and tricksters.

Even before crows.

Coyote
Old Man
sly one
always ready with a joke
or a riddle

They say he spun the Milky Way
with his deceit
told the Earth's first lie

And as for riddles:
answer at your peril
or carry him
like a whispering sack
upon your back
until the end.

People create their own bear traps and step in them deliberately blaming another. These people are the real monsters nearby.

Tangential   is  this  dispersal
  of  things.

Greased   like    chain
slipping  from   the   curve
of  the neck

it   is
mundane   that hands
  have no   sense   of control
and  abandon
  is kin

as in  a   home
  furniture is   desolation
made absolute   by
  a   visitation.

better   it  is to
know   the finest   day
  is  only  death  in the  afternoon
like   piecemeal metamorphosis.

Nothing  like
this     oblivious  day.

One says
"I'll race you to the gutter."
The other one says
"Yeah, but I'll beat you to hell."
Followed by lots of liquid laughter
And they think they're joking

                                     By Phil Roberts

I dreamed of my father
crossing the fields
on his one-eyed tractor
mowing acres of sadness
heading east of a moon
that'll be gone tomorrow
and I waded the creek
beneath a ridge
where my mother is shearing
dead roses and the smell
of those flowers floating
to the foot of the mountains
reminds me of her hair
and my father's laughter
disappearing across the hill.

your genius is so stupid.

science is the shell
encapsulating the
oddly shaped object
of truth.