Today a Ruckus

the raucous crows
roil the sky in constant
autumn chase of one another—
they wheel

and soar,
fold wings to fall
together—as I fall
towards your lips, tongue; a ruckus

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, Autumn, Cinquain, Crows, John MacKenzie, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Mumble back at me

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