hammer in the wind

hammer in the wind

pastel maroon pink tangerine and greyblue cloud something in one smear against the faint urine water yellow. and I assume this is the sky. for the moment. not just colour. now its gone. so it was the sky.

black crows are infiltrating our Fall-strewn rust metal mess as in lawn, but really. the contrast is welcome. they are eating something I put out yesterday and they stump on the stump like a hump on a boar tho in truth I never saw one (a boar), so are they, the boar, pure fantasy?

the crows do not care a wit. having secured their place in the fantasy and folklore of moldy pages n brains, glisten'd syrupy hearts that are pure. only to driftswaggle among Van Gogh corn, but only when looked at and that is often, round the world which is flat and unending. or so it seems.

these crow are smart. they have wound their way into art history books, onto postcards n calendars, posters n greeting cards. even a tshirt or two. these crows are gaped at, stoolpigeon'd against or goth missed or cried upon. dearly. they have been reflected upon. dearly. and.

and written about.

sorcerer crows that are smartass written about.

that's cool.

I tramped to the end of the lawn with an outliving us all but probably not ziplock bag of freshly crunched crackers we here in the house did not so love. So to it to the birds, and this may mean big crow, smart crow, hellbedamn'd crow, but heavensent crow nonetheless.

I note on the way back that this lawn reminds me of the body. veiny. collapsing. unwieldy with pride, the pride that is reserved for lawns, assuming they can feel think anything but they probably do. living and all. not cut as much and all. fuck the neighbors. and all. all told. this lawn gives life! and that's why this lawn is seen loafin around. the lawn loafin around the lawn. but this lawn. this lawn. seems of the body.

now Fall, orange stupid with rust colour in shades layer caked on that n that, dear neighbor. that is clear. veiny yes even corpusal'd (spelling?) if I knew what a corpusal looked like. I could look it up but where's the fun in that? I mean. where is the fun? in that? look it up. it's not fun.

but this lawn. it's a body. crackers on the body. crackers of Man. wisecrackers. Man crackers. Man! He's crackers! birds on the lawn birds tipping into the body with the occasional slurp from the metal gold mid century modern bird bath. martini bird bath. for birds who order martinis. but get this

crows hammer in the sky

crows are hammers in the sky

crows getting hammered in the sky

these kooky crows. smart as a whip against these smeary skies.

hammer in the wind.