I can feel it in my bones. I can hear crows on the telephone wires. I can see wind writing words I can't read. I smell woodsmoke. The blackberries taste overripe.
I can hear my bones creaking. I see a flight of crows. I smell dead leaves
in the wind. The back of my throat tastes of woodsmoke. I feel blackberry thorns in my skin.
I can see my bones. I smell smoldering feathers. I taste danger in the wind.
I feel the caress of smoke. I hear the blackberry covert rustle.
I can smell bone-dry air. Taste feathery falling ash. I feel the wind turn
cold and hot. I hear the bonfire crackle. I see blackening berry vines.
I taste my bones. I feel crow-black feathers sprout from my skin. I hear the wind
welcome me. I see smoke. I smell blackberry wine burning under the canes.
Collection available! Knocking from Inside
Friday, August 22, 2008
Crow Bones
Labels:
poetry,
prose poem
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5 comments:
I'm starting to have the same kind of feelings - I hope they never get this vivid.
wonderful evocation of atmosphere. I like the short sentences in long lines.
wonderful evocation of atmosphere. I like the short sentences in long lines.
Makes me choke down the idea of the coming of autumn and winter. I feel it.
Nice, Tiel, very nice.
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