Crows recognize faces

Crows recognize faces

And they tell other crows

I can hear the cawing

And now everyone knows

We carry a knowledge 

A book that is well read

From cover to cover

So beware where you tread

They told me I was sick

They told me I was sick

That poetry is dead

That I should get some help

No explanation said 

I was the pallbearers

Dirging my own coffin

This is how they made me

Feel and way too often

This late night town crier

This late night town crier

Rambling in words and walk

Expressing the heartfelt

When it’s quiet and dark

Soon there will be workers

Rushing with lowered heads

Routinely stepping with

Internalizing saids 

Let these held waters pool

Let these held waters pool

Evaporation waits

But change is far greater 

Than mere physical states

Art is a catalyst

Not moon echoing light

Its assault or embrace

Compounding expedite

Gather your belongings

Gather your belongings

Sentimental and you

The days made of folk art

Unsigned but your worn shoe

Annuals self-seeding

And when the house is gone

Perennials teeming

Where garden lines were drawn

Free from the memories

Free from the memories 

Violin symphonies

Cannot revive fallen

Layers of peonies

Don’t let them hollow out

My prone and aging tree

Forget the tangled roots

Meet me at canopy

So far out so it seems

So far out so it seems

Chasing or being chased

Safety or surrender

Held tightly or misplaced

These words written in Truth

Their home beyond prairied 

Love is a constant from

Beginning to buried