Pre-dusk, midsleep,
a seemingly calculated and cryptic
cacophony
of cosmically chaotic
cawing
careened from a conical corral
of crows circulating the cerulean sky
outside my window.
This conscious chorus of crowing
consumed my senses, clouding my innervision
crushing my auditory canals
with a clearly occult incantation
that conjured a charcoal concoction of
curiously condensed, catenated, and crystalizing
commotion that coitally crowbarred my cranium
to covertly conceive
some clandestine conviction
into the compliant cavity of my mind.
Cruel or Celestial, unclear;
yet. . .
Changing my confidential creed,
Collapsing my capacity to choose
Cracking the chastity of my will.
Catalyzing cascades of chemical, corporeal, and circumstantial consequences and confusions. . .
Nearly in a sleep paralysis,
all I could see and hear
was the spiraling gyre of black birds
that seemed to be speaking something into me,
stirring my mind in some intentional way.
