All perfect I do not tell
Her for being fearful
She might laugh

She flies away into
The endless sky I do not see

I wait
Hoping I might be
Remembered

All the (what
Maybe) clouds like
Fluffy (buzz less) bees
Searching (not for
Honey) – and we
Too (un) together
Wish we could
Fly (& other things
That do not end
Without sweetness)

o see the raven soar between the night
and day – the gritting of starry teeth
upon dark’ning feather – she tells how light
a bone can be as the world floats beneath

o see the raven hang between the air
and sea – the clenching of squared jaw
upon the lightening – a feather on a dare
seeking a true path through thundered yaw

o see the raven dive between the hour
and the day – the line of sight turned glare
a grayed story left for some mind to devour
like a bible for the unloved to hear and despair

o no, i am not the raven or the coming storm
the eternity unspoken or the line that proves the form

the heron knows the blues
better than I do, better than you do
better than any fool-poet
winging poems like prayers
along the riverbank

the heron knows the blues
like the beat, like the beaten
better than any damned beatnik
winging poems like prayers
along the road

the heron knows the blues
three bars down, four bars down
twelve bars and ten shots later
winging whisky like a prayer
down the throat
of this mean little city on this mean little river
on this mean little day