Birds of Then



Birds of Then



Stranded, lost in the

thickest part of the woods,


wanting to play

it back in dog years,


to retrace the crumbed

and pebbled path,


to connect every hair

fallen from my head,


to create a new, craftier maze

through the forest of youth.


Wandering bygone bars,

dazed by fool’s gold moon,


surviving on sugar daddy,

the charity of berries,


the woebegone quest

exhausts, abscinds,


the birds of then

have strewn the way,


and coil gray threads,

through nests of lust.


Craig R. Krichner


Craig thinks of poetry as hobo art. He loves storytelling and the aesthetics of the paper and pen. He was nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize, and has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels. After a writing hiatus he was recently published in Poetry QuarterlyDecadent Review, New World Writing, Skinny, Neologism, Wild Violet, Last Stanza, Unbroken, W-Poesis, The Globe Review, Your Impossible Voice, Fairfield Scribes and has work forthcoming in Ginosko, Last Leaves, Literary Heist, Blotter, Quail Bell, Yellow Mama, Unlikely Stories and The Light Ekphrastic. 

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