david jewell poet

words. photos. images. whatnot.

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Terrible crow of outrageous beauty.

Solitary crow in the snow like the definition of black

against white

earth.

And grey sky.

Crow of sonic song that scratches the soul.

Crow with electric red eyes, blazing

through the moonless night.

––What are you mumbling about? … asked Mr Bones

––Just thinking out loud… said Crow.

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retro response nomenclature sunrise
(surmising what have you)
like an octopus tatsting martinis….

down the street a fire engine goes all sonic and light show…
just because it can
and why not…
except, don’t make a habit of it––

grab the stethoscope and march 2 miles in a circle,
return to where you left from,
it’s called “exercise”. . .
whatever.

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