Sunday, April 03, 2005


Raven is dicing
the Quito afternoon in
pieces of sunlight,
chasing clouds across the sky
and over the bold mountains,

and opening his
greedy beak in the doorway
of the Syrian
restaurant. His eyes follow
the movements of the waiter

serving spicy plates
of eggplant and zucchini,
and he makes his move:
diving into the kitchen,
snatching a whole pita bread

with the expertise
he used to steal the sun and
put it in the sky.
Raven flies fast on his own
broken road to Damascus,

never falling from
his speed to be converted.
Raven's religion
is his belief in a full
belly and a cloudless sky.

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