Today's poem is by Joseph Campana


All flesh wants is a little
food, a little sleep. It does

not want to know what is
before it or what it already

knows as darkness. To live
as flesh is to live on sound

for it is, at last, all feeling.
So everything ends, and it

ends with a precipitous sweep
of wings, a singular buffet

of wind, and a tiny scream.

Copyright © 2012 Joseph Campana All rights reserved
from Natural Selections
University of Iowa Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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