cherry

CROW HEARS FATE KNOCK AT THE DOOR

Crow looked at the world, mountainously heaped.
He looked at the heavens, littering away
Beyond every limit.
He looked in front of his feet at the little stream
Chugging on like an auxiliary motor
Fastened to this infinite engine.

He emagined the whole engineering
Of it's assembly, repairs and maintenance -
And felt helpless

He plucked grass-heads and gazed into them
Waiting for first instructions.
He studied a stone from the stream.
He found a dead mole and slowly he took it apart
Then stared at the gobbets feeling helpless.
He walked, he walked
Letting the tanslucent starry spaces
Blow in his ear cluelessly.

Yet the prophecy inside him, like a grimace,
Was I WILL MEASURE IT ALL AND OWN IT ALL
AND I WILL BE INSIDE IT
AS INSIDE MY OWN LAUGHTER
AND NOT STARING OUT AT IT THROUGH WALLS
OF MY EYE'S COLD QUARANINE
FROM A BURIED CELL OF BLOODY BLACKNESS -

This Prophecy was inside him, like a steel spring

Slowly rending the vital fibres.