Improv., Week13

from "Crows" -Eric Smith (p 217)
It is too noon for noon.
A fan cuts heat into tatters,
and you tell me days should
unspool only like this.
It's just as effortless to burst
into the shiver of early
afternoon, open-mouthed,
and expect someone else
to do the work of crows.
Forgive them their voices,
the pillow fight of preening,
their ink deep eyes, too deep
to be aware of anything
but depth.

Improvisation:

It's all too right for right.
The twinkling asphalt cuts paths
through town, and you say roads
should cross countries like this.
It's just as infantile to jump
into murky ponds of late
afternoon, open-mouthed,
and reject working satellites
whizzing orbits through dark
matter. Forget the politics,
the race to rip out the stars,
the twinkling shards, too bright
to recognize anything but
their brightness.