Wednesday, December 03, 2003

Since I haven't posted a poem for a while:

Beliefs, Pah!
for Charles and Phish Ardinger

Two rooks met on a razor wire.
One was told of snow.
Snow to bury valleys that one could walk from mountain peak to mountain peak.
Two was told of winds.
Winds to rend the heavens to bring the water suspended above down upon the rooks.
Of course, says Two, the mother rook is to blame
for growing too fat as to offend the Great Rook.
Fatuous blowhard, says One, it was the crow who called the snow
to bury all the rook's desire.
Then on to the deposing of mother rook and replacing her with a parliamentary system
versus bargaining with enemy wolf to have him destroy the crow.
And the differing storms and faults of others and solutions
baked hate into their very feathers.
They cracked their voices and pecked.
They ripped flesh from bone.
Two rose and descended upon One with all his speed.
Just before reaching him, Two hit the razor wire and sliced into two halves.
His beak pierced the eye of One, entering his brain.
Pieces and black down fell.
And the sun shown warm on the corpses all season long.

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