Monday, March 15, 2010

Black is Burned

Eruption ~ Jacek Yerka

The crow descends in silhouette
Trees scratch his name against the dawn
While last year’s leaves as yet un-swept
Declare the day in whispered scorn

And from my thoughts hang twisted kites
Which steal the night unhinge the locks
Their fingers search out every tumbler
Their tails jump-start the mourning clocks

His silhouette descends through boiling clouds
Calls my name across the dawn
The flock mark my passing and check my pace
I pick my beak with talon thorn

Breath condenses words from steam
Balloon thoughts here too soon dispersed
This music feeds my fever dream
Leaves me walking paths well versed

11 comments:

Justin Russell said...

Unlike you Pisces, words presently fail me. All I can say is that it is always a brimming pleasure to read your work.

the walking man said...

Aging is hell.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Thanks Justin! :D

Walking Man: Hell is hell ;]

je suis le lune said...

awesome. i love this.

The Scrybe said...

I enjoyed this poem and the pictures it paints; a brilliant eruption.
Of course, with dawn being my first love, "Trees scratch his name against the dawn" is my favourite line.
And Yerka is amazing, thanks :)

Pisces Iscariot said...

le Lune: thank you :)

The Scrybe: you're welcome :]

Megan Duffy said...

Splendid. You are one of the best poets I have come across on blogger.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Thank you Megan

Harlequin said...

always impressive how you can bring this reader deep inside an experience with your mood as well as your words.

spit said...

Incredible

Sofia ♥ Freebird said...

"and from my thoughts hang twisted kites which steal the night unhinge the locks"

So beautiful, I can do nothing but read it over & over again.
As @spit said, incredible.