WHEAT FIELD WITH CROWS (by Michael Daugherty)

(for Vincent and the too many others)

A grass track
leads nowhere

beneath a blue-black
sick summer

sky; crows attack
the eye, defy

all the slick
laws of probability;

angry wheat
writhes beneath

the breath of fate,
the mistral of truth:

clues to the paradox
of a waking dream,

the brushstrokes
of a scream.


DO YOU NEED LOVE? (by Michael Daugherty)

He fought shy
of fighting at all,
thus becoming a target
impossible to miss.

He was guilty
of being an innocent,
the only unforgivable
crime in the hard
yard of playtime.

Teachers were deaf
as parents were blind,
his inevitable death
a last lonely yes
to the one question
nobody asked him.