still shivered

there’s never one reason for leaving
(though mistaken heads nod
in approval at fables offered up
as truth) for crows will fly
in any direction they choose
(just ask van gogh)
and the shivered tenor
of a voice singing the blues
so soulfully rendered
in a moment and through
the pines as his song unwinds
is executed for its own particular sake.

for kurt cobain