White Crowing

White Crowing

in the post-modern dust bowl

Idioms of myriad worlds spiral down the begging path.
The grain feathers tangle in the sandbar on the rim,
Ending in the dwelling of manifest wrath
With stupor offering its clank to the whim.

No one dreamed the others into swerving.
Few sacrificed fathers and mothers for priding.
Several rounded the edges on the curving.
Many chafed at the marble pine for hiding.

The scooped talons of white crowing
Dip under the sea-broad sky.
Fleet winged bandies blowing
Stretch and dither on the fly.

No tongue shatters so many brains as munificence.
No tooth clatters the rain so well as malfeasance.