A crow lay one day quite dead. The late afternoon clinging to it.
Its imprint on the window pane, shocked into being.
The stars above me are screwed up scraps of paper.
I threw them way up there.
On them, written previous indiscretions.
I glued them so they stick in the air.
At night I look up and stare at all the constellations.
Here on the earth of my limitations.
I once crushed a lady bird.
I once told someone I had no choice.
Taking my comfort the dead can't be disappointed.
Passive aggressive Ouija.
Granny always proud but concerned about money.
I don't think my ideology is healthy.
I need belief in me the dead can't be disappointed.
One day I can't be disappointed in me.
I once buried my bodies in you.
I once stood soaked through to the sin.
Crossroads on the highway say "your place or mine?"
Chewed honeysuckle and geranium.
Fish feel free to swim but they're still in an aquarium.
Sometimes divinity doesn't seem so divine.
Sometimes humanity shows itself as being human.
Every climax casts out a confession.
I once thought fire was sped up time.
I once wanted to burn the history, all my failings.
Pureed into test tubes for unusual experimentation.
Don't think it always was this way.
Concrete alien crafts with square tiles for carpets.
Probed by grey suits beside photocopiers with tablets.
Morning abduction meetings require Geiger readings.
Absurd language lacking meaning.
I once didn't give something I should have given.
I once read a science fiction story from nineteen thirty seven.
A time traveler pinioned a prehistoric bug specimen.
When he returned to his own denizen:
Fascist pessimism was the political scene.
People added jam after their cream.
A rain of heavy night swept the land of the King and Queen.
No one much cared how this came to be called living.
I once shocked an unhappy memory into being.
I once wondered if disappointments cling to the dead.
