Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Crows -- black as yesterday's chocolate cake -- uneaten. Although I have eaten metaphoric crow before. But this is really about two art pieces converging, conversing, and emerging. From two paintings, a poem happened. From black ink, a tree filled with crows. As only a poem can, those same crows migrated to a solitary tree -- a few leaves, birdless. That's the migratory path of poetry.