October 11, 2011

Doris Vernon


Crow flings his black cloak over his bony shoulders
Caws into the sky
Calls others from the Crow Clan
And leads them over the corn field
He’s painting     He’s painting
They feel the vibrations rising
Before they hear the sound
the artist staggers through the field
Down the country road
Back to his hotel
Crow flaps back to his perch
Shivers knowing his wings are black strokes
On Vincent’s canvas.

from Rattle #26, Winter 2006
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