Crow’s Beak

Harley roaring recklessly,

tattoos mend clipped wings;

subcutaneous scorpid stings>>>

tearing, puncturing, endlessly


A torn soul dangles

from a crow’s beak,

perched on the parapet;

satiating Satan’s quota


Too afraid to demur,—

confront the crying kid

locked inside.

He didn’t twist 


to turn

the clock back;

to brighter skies

of Spring’s smiling,

soothing, shimmer


Seeking spiritual rations,

Standing tall on the wall

The Eagle of our nation;

Uplifting those who fall


Filling the porous holes

with Joy, Love, Laughter;

Clarity, cleansing whole:

Silence … nothing stirs.

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