Crow Sparks Drum atop Mt. Fury of Heart-Attack

Hitherward stretched out beneath Sun’s hartshorn
Crow whistles from a sorceress’ horn
Over the bearing edge like a hock or pledge
In pawn of some debt; so hitherward stretched,

Stretched out, over the bearing ruff of his Bodh-
ran’s batterhead.
Crow staunchly stomachs the red ruck
Of a ruddock still warbling. Still warbling like

A small European Thrush pledging allegiance
And so pleading to be spit, as Jonah
Himself, out towards the far-out wrinkles

Of the valley’s leghorn dock

Like a taximeter or stopwatch. Not
Skipping a clonic groan or, kah-kah, beat

From drum

 
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FITZGERALD

Just a few months after Cathy Earnshaw kindly drove Heathcliff ‘mad- ly off,’ begging him to ‘just go’ and ‘rob a gold mine!,’ Heathcliff returns years in advance–not simply as a thief or some pale white gypsy chewing the leathery meat... Continue →