Oran Brucks Poems

As the seasons of my silence grow,

Cherished sounds grown dim that I used to know
...

On the streets, hear our American voices rise and declare
While we gather, steadfast, free and brave.
With signs held high, we chant and sing,
'No throne, no crown, no tyrant king! '
...

Ravens and Crows. In the cold blue hush before morning,
where cedar branches stitch the sky,
Ravens gather like scattered thoughts
And Crows arrive with watchful eyes. Not merely feathers, beaks, and wings—
...