That contradict my thoughts, and
Down I flutter and
I am untrue, I am unmanned,
Drunken, lazy layabout.
Every contradiction is imagined, is
Subject to the rules of time, space
And prevailing weather conditions, Ms.
Confusion. But it all fits, all in my
Skull, or outside of my
Skull. This part or that is one wing
Flapping, one beady eye
Of one crow, a black wing to stretch,
Filled with wind, singed with sun,
Half a mile in the air, black dots on
Blue, without binoculars you would see none,
But they float in light, and they
Signal, I can barely read it now,
It’s a text, I’m sure, it’s
Giving and extending, anyhow,
To be flying in this blue,
For this black to be so bright,
It’s a knowing veined with joy
Of the clarity of height.