LAST PAINTING
Crows rose like black rick rack
into a sky of blue violence,
flying
up from the golden wheat fields,
where boots had trampled
a sad and solitary path.
Listen to the screams of the crows
as they furiously flap their oil black
wings,
attempting to ascend the boundaries
of the earth, only to be caught
forever in a flight of vain striving.
The crows advance toward the
observer in a wave of
madness.
Here, the diverging roads lead
nowhere, and traveling them brings
only darkness forever – and peace.
