Crow Prints In the Mud
Yeah,
go ahead stare at my crows feet,
I don't mind
I'm proud of them
earned every one...
broken my back
broken this
broken that
ninety proof patch
thatched hut for a heart
and broken clock soul
Yeah, crows feet, look closely,
there etched in unforgiving-unforgivable
tin miscarriages
cornucopias spilling the seeds of lust
sticky-petty jealousies on a path of forever
the broken flesh of those never born
gouging at the skin around the soul.
You on the other hand
don't have any crows feet
your pallet and brushes are clean.
haven't earned any
haven't buried what you love...
enough
given (it )all to a heart
only to retrieve (it) from the earth
to be put out of it's misery.
you haven't gotten those pixie dusted eyes broken,
but you'll catch up... some day,
its coming
way-way down the tracks...at the empty station,
where nothing breathes but crow prints
in a fragile evening mud-
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2011
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