{"id":2477,"date":"2014-04-21T22:19:07","date_gmt":"2014-04-21T22:19:07","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=2477"},"modified":"2014-04-21T22:19:07","modified_gmt":"2014-04-21T22:19:07","slug":"thomas-zimmerman-april-2014","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/thomas-zimmerman-april-2014\/","title":{"rendered":"Thomas Zimmerman, April 2014"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><strong>Isis and Osiris<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>In dreams, the body calls the dark earth home.<br \/>\nBut stitched together now, we drink and laugh.<br \/>\nWe\u2019re mummified, all wrapped in dying\u2019s chaff<br \/>\ntonight. The brain\u2019s been yanked, the painted dome-<br \/>\nroof smoked with zombie spices. Organs jugged<br \/>\nlike hares. Remorse and Busyness, our twin<br \/>\nautistic children, scarabs scuttling in<br \/>\nthese seven-holed sarcophagi we\u2019ve lugged<br \/>\nfor fifty-something years. We\u2019ve rattled round<br \/>\nthis life like baby teeth we pulled and kept<br \/>\nbeyond the fairy\u2019s theft. Our love is black<br \/>\nas Nephthys\u2019s vagina, Nile unbound,<br \/>\nwith any light occult and primal, swept<br \/>\nup in the flood that takes and gives life back.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Air<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>It turns my blue blood red. It lifts my hair,<br \/>\na toddler\u2019s Easter kite, the two crows, say,<br \/>\nthat Scarlet barked at walking yesterday.<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019ve cracked the window in the gym, my lair:<br \/>\nI smell of fur and meat. Wife\u2019s home, undoes<br \/>\nher necklace, clicking pearls still warm from her.<br \/>\nA burnt-leaves scent envelops us. The whirr<br \/>\nof crickets rises with my drunken buzz.<\/p>\n<p>I haven\u2019t had a drink, but visions pry<br \/>\nmy mind\u2019s tight lid: I feel the air that sheathes<br \/>\na flying arrowhead, the air that breathes<br \/>\nwith sight, that stokes a fire\u2019s one red eye.<br \/>\nThe darkness powders down, our two souls rise,<br \/>\na fragrant smoke that fills the endless skies.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>Thomas Zimmerman teaches English, directs the writing center, and edits two literary magazines at Washtenaw Community College, in Ann Arbor, Michigan. His chapbook <em>In Stereo: Thirteen Sonnets<\/em> and <em>Some Fire Music<\/em> appeared from The Camel Saloon Books on Blog in 2012. Tom&#8217;s website: http:\/\/thomaszimmerman.wordpress.com\/<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Isis and Osiris In dreams, the body calls the dark earth home. But stitched together now, we drink and laugh. We\u2019re mummified, all wrapped in dying\u2019s chaff tonight. The brain\u2019s been yanked, the painted dome- roof smoked with zombie spices. Organs jugged like hares. Remorse and Busyness, our twin autistic children, scarabs scuttling in these [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":934,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-2477","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v24.2 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Thomas Zimmerman, April 2014  - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/thomas-zimmerman-april-2014\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Thomas Zimmerman, April 2014  - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Isis and Osiris In dreams, the body calls the dark earth home. But stitched together now, we drink and laugh. We\u2019re mummified, all wrapped in dying\u2019s chaff tonight. The brain\u2019s been yanked, the painted dome- roof smoked with zombie spices. Organs jugged like hares. 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