Saturday, September 08, 2007

New Poem: Dream


graceful crows return from the land
of the dead, full, flesh in their jaws

we struggle to understand death,
they feed on it, oblivious to our concern

from dust to dust, or rather, from
flesh to earth, always a transition

I dream myself a crow, feeding
on my own death, hungry for blood

in the instant of recognition, I am
neither bird nor man, I am transformed

the dream awakens me, for an instant
my wings brush the sheets, then silence

I have made the journey, and returned

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