wind out of oklahoma this morning smelled like blood and smoke.
and the crows discuss their future in the branches of
their louisiana live oak.
the limbs are strong and heavy and its leaves are all aglow.
and the branches brush the upper air,
but the roots reach down to where the bad people go.
and what will i do with you, pink and blue?
true gold. nine days old.
nice new clothes on you and old carboard produce box for a cradle.
i mashed some bananas in a coffee cup and
i fed you there at the kitchen table.
crows outside complaining about the finer points of local politics.
strange wind all full of new smells -- rust and fur and reception sticks.
and what will i do with you, pink and blue?
true gold. nine days old
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