Pecking Birds

Pecking Birds

In a memory he sifts for horseshoe crabs
Seven high dunes riddled with rotting
In the decline of day
Beneath a porch the old man weeps to cooing
Grains and pebbles whispering
Of his lifting age

Soon it will be a year past

He will place his eyes beneath his tongue

He will take his tongue
And stretch it along the path of days
Month by month asking where he placed his life

One life lost behind a crashing sand
One eye melting as crows march by him
Winging over his frankness
Candid lifelessness
Spoken by name rolled from his mouth

Cackle cackle and caw
Under the self-same porch
Born dying asking how come

Sand will pour weeping from his lips
Old men live no better in rotting he shouts

Shouting calcifies his home with sand

He was crumbling before he knew credo
Or the sobs of wailing beaches

He is reflection in a mote of beige grains

On a pylon he carved a blind saying with his nails
There is no sight in dying
Barely even worry

 

–Christian Rees

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About loyolapoets

The Greyhound Collective Poetry Revival would like to consider “mission statement” in its simplest terms. Rather than reiterate the boundaries of our task, we simply express our aim: to become a mission – a party of individuals sent out into the world with a message meant to unveil a uniting principle of truth. We define this message as “poetry.” We promote poetry as a viable and vivid art form, alive and accessible. Freed from its ivory tower, our poetry will breathe life into an ailing form while fostering an artful relationship with the greater community. We assert ourselves under the following mantra: “your mouth is a sign of how sacred your life actually is.” As a collective, we write to be sanctified. View all posts by loyolapoets

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