"love yourself in your lists"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_CF1mqOp0Q

The link above is to a video for "love yourself in your lists," the final poem in "Ghost In Anthill" (digital book) and also appears as a spoken word interlude on the album "Sidewinder." Inspiration to write this came after reading the first part of Toni Morrison's "Beloved." The question I pose when I read it is to imagine that you have just gained your freedom for the first time in your life.

This poem ©2011 Eric Franklin Crow (published 2/1/11, 5:37 p.m.)

winter (web-ink) wild

14. winter (web-ink) wild - by Eric Crow
(from the book "Blood on White Leather")

wind whispers loudly through trees
enjoys caressing tickle it causes
blows its bending way through bare branches

intimately, I bargain
now, here, only
karma for those want cleaned

wet my quill.
inspired by intimate view,
noble wind escapes
thrillingly from my pen makes
easy turning point:
romance pours from my body

wonderfully,
I am a voyeur
loving the scene
developing before my eyes

@2010 Eric Franklin Crow

"That" Wish

"That" Wish, by Eric Crow

invisible explosion

erotic cosmos summit

here, low root

meets high Heaven

physical rapture ensues

inhale short, hot breath

sense the other's wet

the longer the wait

the harder the shot

then comes the rush

which cannot turn back

binds me to its peak

pinpoint of skin

from which the world

loses its weight

flying everywhere

blue sky knows not

heaving collapse

onto "that" wish

get yourself together:

move on or move again.

©2010 Eric Franklin Crow

birds chirping at midnight

birds chirping at midnight

birds
chirping
at midnight
in trees outside
my bedroom
window,
singing
happy songs.
their chrips
chase away
chatterbox
shadow idiot,
dumbstruck
by alcohol,
fueled by
stored up anger
that outburns
oil’s flaming.
birds
know nothing
of seeds of chaos
planted by electronic
farmhands,
complete
with children
who paint screens
on television sets,
turned off by Dad.
cool July breeze
washes dying light
rage away this night
but now you know
why this is why
I live for every
3:18 a.m.
moment I can:
to hear birds
chirping at midnight.
they reclaim
the sky after
we're done
besting, texting,
taking, making,
shaking, faking peace.
birds chirping at midnight
turns life into more
than just talk
of love from above.
i sit and listen
to the shape of the space
between and around
their chirps:
this is how
I remember to love God.

@2010 Eric Franklin Crow

apparently

I wrote this at the end of last year, in response to those who think that public displays of happiness should be kept to a minimum...

apparently

apparently,
I'm supposed to care
about where I dare to breathe free.
apparently,
there is a penalty
for walking down the street
like a happy child of God.
apparently,
these people have been deputized
and given a pad of snicker tickets
to dispense at whim.
these are the same people
whose mating call to each other
is as thick and dull as a rock to lake bottom,
yet even the rock has more personality...

©2010 Eric Franklin Crow