1.0Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)https://www.fullofcrow.com/poetryElynnAlexanderhttps://www.fullofcrow.com/poetry/author/admin/rich600338<blockquote class="wp-embedded-content" data-secret="4tFUybaeJF"><a href="https://www.fullofcrow.com/poetry/archives/brandon-k-brock-1012/">Brandon K. Brock, 10/12</a></blockquote><iframe sandbox="allow-scripts" security="restricted" src="https://www.fullofcrow.com/poetry/archives/brandon-k-brock-1012/embed/#?secret=4tFUybaeJF" width="600" height="338" title="“Brandon K. Brock, 10/12” — Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)" data-secret="4tFUybaeJF" frameborder="0" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" scrolling="no" class="wp-embedded-content"></iframe><script type="text/javascript"> /* <![CDATA[ */ /*! This file is auto-generated */ !function(d,l){"use strict";l.querySelector&&d.addEventListener&&"undefined"!=typeof URL&&(d.wp=d.wp||{},d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage||(d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage=function(e){var t=e.data;if((t||t.secret||t.message||t.value)&&!/[^a-zA-Z0-9]/.test(t.secret)){for(var s,r,n,a=l.querySelectorAll('iframe[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),o=l.querySelectorAll('blockquote[data-secret="'+t.secret+'"]'),c=new RegExp("^https?:$","i"),i=0;i<o.length;i++)o[i].style.display="none";for(i=0;i<a.length;i++)s=a[i],e.source===s.contentWindow&&(s.removeAttribute("style"),"height"===t.message?(1e3<(r=parseInt(t.value,10))?r=1e3:~~r<200&&(r=200),s.height=r):"link"===t.message&&(r=new URL(s.getAttribute("src")),n=new URL(t.value),c.test(n.protocol))&&n.host===r.host&&l.activeElement===s&&(d.top.location.href=t.value))}},d.addEventListener("message",d.wp.receiveEmbedMessage,!1),l.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded",function(){for(var e,t,s=l.querySelectorAll("iframe.wp-embedded-content"),r=0;r<s.length;r++)(t=(e=s[r]).getAttribute("data-secret"))||(t=Math.random().toString(36).substring(2,12),e.src+="#?secret="+t,e.setAttribute("data-secret",t)),e.contentWindow.postMessage({message:"ready",secret:t},"*")},!1)))}(window,document); //# sourceURL=https://www.fullofcrow.com/poetry/wp-includes/js/wp-embed.min.js /* ]]> */ </script> stop sign dead pan: The truth smelled like burning rubber. Shattered glass sparkling in the dew of the morning, sun light breaking into prisms. Red and oil, the crushing metal and fiberglass. Vinyl splinters, caked and hardened from heat. Gasoline soaking into grass, fire spreading; the dew too weak to prevent the attack. Sirens blaze, […]