david jewell poet

words. photos. images. whatnot.

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Screen shot 2016-07-31 at 12.54.17 PM

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k. casi model. photo by dj.

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mashup with ampersand

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mashup with ampersand


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blue world inside a blue world floating in space without stars outside only inside the inner blue world of the two blue worlds floating in space without stars. . .

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new years poem

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Occluded vision into the future
rowdy time
hovering on the horizon
drifting above
the sea sharing rain with
the ocean evaporating back
into the cloud

the circle continues and expands
The past Occluded by
future Memory
the future occluded
by the past yet to be
we are spinning

inside of smoky shadows
we are appearing
out of Amber crystals
we see the stars flimsily
as we repeat unrecorded time
as we expand
through yet another universe

we see time flimsily
we see stars drift flimsily through
the atmosphere
through the cornea
to the neuron
through the shimmy and shake
of the blood-cell-neuro-transmitter

where are we
inside the lightning bolt?
the electrical attraction?
the firing of the neuron we call ourselves?



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first particles. then fire. then life.

after many star explosions.

after planet slowly cools.

after oceans settle in.


with fire inside.

and spirit inside.

and soul inside.

looking back where it came from.

particles. then fire. then life.

a mystery.



& …

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. . . or else waiting again, inside the soundwave, to hatch another elephant of sleepless emotion.

it was all a bunch of hoopla and hornswoggle if you ask me, but something was cooking

between these ears, in my so called brain, home of my so called mind,

(my mind that seldom minds me, seldom goes where I tell it to go, often goes where

I tell it not to go, but my mind will stray, away away)––

and so, malarky or no malarky, my neurons were having a party, and it was loud-loud-loud,

until someone called the cops, and I took another sleeping pill, to still the lava flow of the

downloading memory-options, and life-re-writes, and future-visions of where-to-be other than

here-and-now scenarios, taking a powder-room break while thinking even louder, yawning with a

shiver or, uh, mental-quiver of existential what’s-it-to-ya, and why-I-oughtta paradigms. . .

ahem. . .

as I was saying… the elephant of sleepless emotion hatched inside the lava-neurons spilling into the ocean,

around three in the morning…. and the next thing I remember another year went by. bye. buy.



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lookin’ for my soul, oh, vagabond-buddha /

oh, hiawatha, wanna be with-ya /

which way, sistah / just call me mistah

starshine-superfly / don’t know why I jive

just stayin’ alive another day / another way

another sylvester-saint in the daisy-chain-

gang / cool-hand-luke no cahoots “what

we have here is failure-to-communicate”

whack––with a cane––ouch––down the hill,

bake me a cake / and put in a pill don’t

leave it in the rain don’t talk me out of

my imaginary pain / my imaginary pleasure

lookin’ for a leisure-suit at goodwill to

freak out my grrlfrien’ then-go-to-the-mall & buy some

bling-bling / wanna make her sing / so many

things get lost in the shuffle.




March 2017
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