{"id":3050,"date":"2017-07-24T01:13:20","date_gmt":"2017-07-24T01:13:20","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=3050"},"modified":"2017-07-25T19:55:47","modified_gmt":"2017-07-25T19:55:47","slug":"larry-thacker-summer-2017","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/larry-thacker-summer-2017\/","title":{"rendered":"Larry Thacker, Summer 2017"},"content":{"rendered":"

Craving<\/strong>
\nI.<\/p>\n

I swear I still taste the earth, enriching my mouth,
\nsmoke blessing my tongue\u2019s stubborn thinking,
\nin the dreaming, driving me a little crazier
\nas everyone works the cloud of smoke up,
\ntwirls it round our drinks and lost laughter.<\/p>\n

Not that I won\u2019t drink or laugh, but my heart, maybe
\n\u2013 I hope \u2013 just doesn\u2019t pump with its once-juiced,
\nnic-longing stumble like it did, jolting out of step,
\na new non-smoking third wheel, but gladly catching
\nhints, delicious in the night through the haze.<\/p>\n

II.<\/p>\n

I do miss it. I miss it like the tobacco fields
\nflashing in my dreams, and the two old graves,
\nattentive so high up on the hill over-watching
\neach new leafy season, lingering, I want to believe,
\non the spot I was born. That one riper spot of a row,<\/p>\n

where my mother\u2019s water broke, where the blood
\nache flowed and pooled to a rest, where her cries
\nwailed, where all the afterbirth was tossed aside
\nfor the patient crows gathering up overhead.
\nAffinity<\/strong><\/p>\n

The only animal I dream of is the crow. Others are surely in there, arguing for time on the sleepy stage, maybe dancing elephants on marbles, a surprisingly calm conversation between sharks as they circle in on the trails of fresh blood, or some dogs in clown suits playing cards and erupting into a sword fight (they shout in Croatian, sub-titled with Viking Runes and neon cave drawings), but I don\u2019t remember them. Only the persistent crow manages to remain perched off a branch of my waking, calling out its versed demands, snapping my spine straight with its taunts, its swoops over my head keep me agitated among the word hunting fields. Promising its message. Its lofty gifts. Some muse shadowed in the tree line too shy to step out into the true light. Its dark flights past sun down when I\u2019m blinded and without words. What would I do without such a friend?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As the Crow Flies<\/strong><\/p>\n

No crow flies straight, after all.
\nThey enjoy other means of navigation
\nbesides clever human phrases.
\nWe should wonder what a crow
\ncalls out for when in the midst of flight.
\nWhat conversation can\u2019t wait
\nuntil a limb or line? Perhaps it\u2019s understandable
\nbetween their kind to call out mid-winged
\non the wind for advice, wondering which way,
\nand, failing to see another, at least glide
\nto familiarity if answered. But,
\nif not, what then makes for navigable
\ndecision making, other than hunger\u2019s pain
\nand company?
\nI think they enjoy connecting
\nthe dots as much as we did as children.
\nBut for them it might be black roof to black roof,
\nthe sweeping chimney smoke, azimuths
\nset from graveyards to lone hilltop trees
\nwith histories, or chopped mountain tops
\nreddened with no trees. Flight here is a constancy
\nwith green on green, the darks and missing
\ndarks the only daylight guides.<\/p>\n

And who among us walks straight
\nfinding ourselves in an open field? None,
\nI\u2019d think. We would meander, curious
\nand in relaxed weavings, letting
\nthe feet speak with the ground more
\nthan being led by the want of the eyes,
\nlike I can imagine, unhurried, lonely
\nblack wings do on the mindless winds.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Larry D. Thacker\u2019s poetry can be found or is forthcoming in more than ninety publications including The Still Journal, Poetry South, Tower Poetry Society, Mad River Review, Spillway, The Southern Poetry Anthology, Mojave River Review, Mannequin Haus, Ghost City Press, Jazz Cigarette, and Appalachian Heritage.<\/em> His books include Mountain Mysteries: The Mystic Traditions of Appalachia<\/em> and the poetry books, Voice Hunting<\/em> and Memory Train<\/em>, as well as the forthcoming, Drifting in Awe<\/em>. He\u2019s presently working on his MFA in both poetry and fiction. Visit his website at: www.larrydthacker.com<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Craving I. I swear I still taste the earth, enriching my mouth, smoke blessing my tongue\u2019s stubborn thinking, in the dreaming, driving me a little crazier as everyone works the cloud of smoke up, twirls it round our drinks and lost laughter. Not that I won\u2019t drink or laugh, but my heart, maybe \u2013 I […]<\/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-3050","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"yoast_head":"\nLarry Thacker, Summer 2017 - 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\/larry-thacker-summer-2017\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Larry Thacker, Summer 2017 - Full Of Crow: Poetry (Archives)\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Craving I. I swear I still taste the earth, enriching my mouth, smoke blessing my tongue\u2019s stubborn thinking, in the dreaming, driving me a little crazier as everyone works the cloud of smoke up, twirls it round our drinks and lost laughter. 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