LXVIII. So Sang the Blood of the Fathers (Follows 'Poetic Fathers')

So sang the blood of the fathers,
as the jawbone it slipped from my hand,
And that jawbone of Balaam’s jackass
came to rest upon bloody red sand.
From blood and bone sprang a great dragon,
rearing his ugly death’s head,
Yet I saw that he was beautiful,
for I, his master, had nothing to dread.

LXXVII. Totem

Old blue crow atop
Yellow hydrant,
Thou art faded with age.
And yet you return,
My harbinger,
Every day in my front yard.