In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

33 Two Crows Three crows huddling between telephone wires is not a metaphor. Depravity is exquisite in the one huddling between the search for carrion and the carrion it last remembers, reminding the others of carrion: black matted feathers, eyes falling inward. I want to know if crows bleed from their eyes during coition, how to tell the difference between crow and raven. Those crows see our Jupiter, must think it mindless how we send our probes surfaceward. Send them away, call them back. Here are two crows guarding my sweet basil, watching wasps orbit the one tomato drooping earthward. These two crows are exquisite. They want me to forget about the dumbells hovering above my head, to forget about planets. Two crows call me back from this unpremeditated meditation to tell me everything I see is real save the dark carrion they wait for. 34 They wait for me to make a move heavenward toward them. The sun beats their eyes into mercury. Depravity is exquisite. Three crows reduced to one. One crow to two. One spring in Italy the children in the piazza yelled, Vengono i corvi! The crows are coming. This is how we learn to love the dark. ...

Share