Seventy two Crows
have come to bid you goodbye
dressed in mourning clothes

enduring the urban winter

daring the day uncovered
            by way of a chaos of crows
                                  pulling on the weather
   breaking from their perches
crooking their feathered hinges
and 'carring' up the first subtle wash of light
     
they lift and clump to make a short migration
            from the city to...? [shrug]
their flight pattern seems more of a 'wit' or a 'prank'
  than a '******'
the sun machines to complete its horizon
              tugged by the last departing birds

returning in the afternoon
with the full light provided
          and messy winds to charge them
like malicious children from the playground gate
       fed and joy fighting at their hierarchy
              whilst in an unbattened flight
                      back into the city

in summer it will be the gulls

I don't want to count the crows
Don't want to focus on my woes
When life has me in it's throws
I don't need another omen

I don't want to watch the stars
And wonder where you are
I'd rather you pick up the call
Than hear the line ring open

I don't want to hear that voice
Telling me that you made a choice
When we should just rejoice
Instead of stand here frozen

I don't want to say goodbye
I want you to be alright
Don't want to beg the open sky
Or cry a ******* ocean

I don't want to count the crows
I want you to come home
Without you, you must know
How many hearts will be broken

downpast where the divermin dont go
is an underwater sun
that casts a blackhole shadow
in to the fishes swim
but they donnot swim out
where oh where do they fishes go
after theybin drowngone in the shadow
after theybin infosucked by the blackhole
i say i dont know
but some days i think i seem them
floating on the cloud forms
as crows

Crow's feathers like
The exoskeleton
Of a long-nose weevil,

The color of
Mom's grease-stained
Pots illuminated in moonlight.

They're a mind
That's gone dark
With a tunnel straight through,

Like a billion
Ants all piled
On- throbbing

Can you hear
Them *******,
Hear them slurping?

Those oily wings
Writhe in air like bodies
Launched from 90-story trade buildings

They close their eyes;
Sleep forever
Bathing in crow's feathers.

I'll dance in the graceful moonlight
I'll sing with the mourning crows..
I'll walk with you at midnight
On routes we seldom go.

We'll walk away to Rome.
I'd love to go with you.
Anywhere is peaceful there
My eyes leak fresh morning dew.

I look into your eyes, waiting
For a response to me.
Hoping you'll smile back down
And use the pronoun 'we'

My heart swoons, creeping
Along at lazy pace
And finally speeding up again
When it's me whom you embrace.

After sitting next to you,
And staring at the stars,
Finding constellations,
And mapping adventures far,

My eyelids close then silently,
And in your arms I fall under.
Now sleeping peacefully,
My dreams pique wonders.

A piece
of a ouija board
sits in the Los Angeles River
as the inky crows squawk nearby

I pace
along this polluted trickle
of a river
as the crows flutter by

Apace
a runner darts near
without his mask
I shudder

Ashes
ashes
we all
fall down