Two Excerpts from the Crow Journal

Crow waits violently.
Who cut all the barbed wire
   tattoos off of thousands of arms?
Shards of flesh, little skin books.
That was then, this is hurt.
Crow waits.
Crow will sew the sky together.
Crow will shape the sky.
Crow will string barbed wire
   together, remove it from
   flesh, make it something else.
Crow will do this at
   the appropriate time.
Crow waits violently.

*

Crow there you go
throwing glass perfume
grenades,
dancing on tinderboxes,
choking a wailing saxophone.
Crow there you go
and here I site,
growing fat drinking water.
One of us will strip naked
and crawl into bed
One of us will refuse
to release final words.