The Ravens (1999)
One can never see a raven
Without hearing a poem
Like the poem
The raven can fly upside-down
And gives no reply to questions
In the raven’s eye:
A spot which
Disappears in the distance
A mirror in the eyes
Of a thousand ravens
The raven, even with other ravens
Is always by itself
The raven is the friend
In the room of the dead
The raven has
Tucked beneath its wings
The whole world
At dawn the raven is
A red door
Night is the dream
Of the first raven
In every raven’s beak
Waits the high note
Maria Callas sings in Tosca
Beethoven’s 5th Symphony is the
Black and beating iridescent breast
Of a raven
Once they crucified a raven
Michelangelo delivered it
From marble
Gently placed it
Against that breast
The Pieta
Van Gogh’s last brush stroke
Was a raven’s wing
Isadora on her talons
Sprang into flight
Poe was, is
His Raven
Every raven
On its night perch
Is a Zen master
A raven spins, sleeping
In the womb of the world
The blinding light in the tomb
Is the raven
Listen
The cry of ravens
Tilting the wind
Turning the world
Throats full
Of the first word
Every word
All poems
Not yet written
Listen
The distant cry
Grows louder
In the luster
Of sleep
The world becomes
Untangled
Echoing
The cry of ravens
--Philomene Long
