Improv/Imitation 2, Week 1

Stanza 1 of I am Still Thinking about this Crow by Ahmad Shamlu

I am still thinking
about this crow
that with its pair of black scissors -
by two brist swishing sounds -
cut an aslant arc
on the matte paper of the sky
over the toasted wheat farms
of the Yush valley;
I am still thinking
about this crow
that facing the nearby mountains
said something -
with its lung's dry cawing -
that the mountains echoed it, baffled,
for such a long time
in their rocky heads.


Throat Contractions

This word hooks onto my throat,
stinging and picking no matter how I swallow -
lluh, I lisp with a trained tongue -
while my companion stares into the distance.
This word that so scratches
at the inside of my neck demands
to be set free, to climb out from my esophagus
to my lips, where it finally can be uttered.
It arises more and more quickly now, faster
like a contraction -
though what results from this pressure
is not a child, but a harpie -
a can of worms, as some might say.
More and more often I attempt
to say this word, and yet the clock
ticks "no, no, no."