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The way you make friends with crows, Mark
is consistent amicable proximity
over time. this is actually how
you make friends with anybody
rooting requires. heavy intention
sinking, gravitational sensibility
commitment. a decision
to be a denizen. crows know
about you by your actions
not your tricks. you, the one
who spreads peanuts not once
but every fucking day. on the
stone wall behind the Costco
whose peanuts are never poison
who changes clothes but always
brushes off the empty shells. before
placing new ones. after a while
a corvid. will reward you with
a token. the corvid, not you, will
find the gum wrapper in the dirt.
will shake it off and lay it near
the empty peanut shells. crow knows
that you will appreciate it. crow knows
compatibility is about
a willingness to work on
a relationship. to keep
deciding that here. is
the place that we both
love to live. crow knows
you, too, like
shiny shit.
lying on my back on a cold rock
the cold rock that lives on the surface
of a hot rock. stargazing, especially
with information. the perseids
that cover our birthdays raining from
a single radiant point. building the fire
quietly after someone else struggled to.
drinking one cocktail while fixing the
grill. flicking water off the end of
wiper blades with my back pocket
bandana. seasoning cast iron pans.
grabbing binoculars to
try to find a seal in the water.
always being ready to go I just
have to grab my shoes.
laughing quietly by myself.
meteor showers are dust burning up in
the atmosphere. ghosts are something
most people see but don’t try to pin down.
trying to see them both is a compromise
between dawn and the time dust is most present.
between the deadness of dust and all this living that I must do.
a falling star is not a comet, though it’s born of one.
I am not a ghost though clearly I am born of one.
