Poet Jane Hirshfield said "... the feeling I have about poem-writing (is) that it is always an exploration, of discovering something I didn't already know.  Who I am shifts from moment to moment, year to year.  What I can perceive does as well.  A new poem peers into mystery, into whatever lies just beyond the edge of knowable ground."

I bring a different poem to the writing classes each week, not only to inspire but to introduce new poets to the group members.

Compendium on Crows by Lorna Crozier

Brains so sharp they know everything at once	
and don’t sort it into parts, their caw, caw, caw
parsed only by the dead in the stench of the gut.

Two crows or one: sorrow and joy have nothing	
to do with them.  Meat does, and the eyes of lambs,	
and rotting matter.  In the high boughs of the spruce

they tuck their feet beneath their robes and take confession.
Go on—it’s you who gives them that, their black	
Madonnas, their worry beads of bones.

They have no gods of punishment or absolution.
They have no stations.  Yet, without exception,	
they dote on their young, give them what they lac,

pluck the songbird’s newly hatched like living plums.

~ from The Wrong Cat (McClelland & Stewart, 2015)

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