Crows. Mud., John Minczeski
Red Canyon Petroglyph Crows. Mud. When crows controlled the weather it rained, loudly. A neighbor shouted I should build an Ark. Ship of death. Mine. I go with my hat, my rain jacket, last year’s sneakers. Clouds part for the moon, a hangnail. The rest involves a phantom limb. Necessity being the mother […]
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