Poem 74 Revised

Very much like the acorn
-A glossy grove encapped-
The ebony beak crack
Clack cackling at the stem.
How then do you tell the acorn,
Wrecked surely from the feat
That birds too need to eat.
Very much like the acorn,
Bitter to the tongue and
Worse to the soil a foot
With gravity wasting no effort
To drag it smoothed under.
Very much like the acorn,
Thick shelled tree-shot
Lether-metal skinned seed
Where bird must feed
On the crisp new acorn
It too must be cracked to proceed.
—ECW

Poem 69 Revised

Canaries in the coal mines collect among them the illusion of soot, watching match-side for the flicker of tightly wound impulse: applauding the hillside to crumbs. Canaries in the coalmine, sunlight strike your sanity away, a flightless sightless siren.  Canaries in the coal mine have no perch on branch barbs or street cars, no need to heed trash cans or mini-vans. Brittle beacon in the dim, for a moment I still believed you were a bird.
—ECW

Poem 69

Canaries in the coal mines collect among them the illusion of soot. They fret the candle. They fear the lamp; they watch match-side for the flicker of tightly wound impulse: applauding the hillside to crumbs. Canaries in the coal mine, were they to look upon the afternoon would think quite seriously that the sun had landed beside them, a canary himself and burned their memories away. I cannot decide how to catch their wings on fire. Canaries in the coal mine have no place around the branch barbs or the street cars, they would ponder too viscerally towards the trash cans and mini-vans. Oh! the churning gurgling of their sooted gullets, I won’t trouble you to sing to me, in your rusty hinging cage. Not for this one. Or any others, dear canary in the coal mine. For a moment I still believed you were a bird.
–ECW

Poem 69 RevisedPoem 69 Edited