david jewell poet

words. photos. images. whatnot.

Archive for the ‘ Photos ’ Category

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encino motel

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heart

mannequin daydream

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for those who love cigs… like i used to

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michelle

mandalablur

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katherine casey experiments… 1st set… 12-15-13

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flowers

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flowers knocking on the door
dragging me out to the street
down to the corner to the
coffee shop and then stopping.

what? I asked them. what?
I was still in my pajamas.
I didn’t even have shoes on,
just socks, (that were all soggy
because it rained the night before).

what is this all about? I asked.
the flowers just stared at me,
silent, emitting a pleasant fragrance.
I didn’t even know what kind
of flowers they were… I’d think
they were daffodils, then look away,
then look back and they’d be
roses, or tulips, or orchids…
on and on.

they were flowers. mainly. flowers.
and they had knocked on my door
and dragged me down the street to
the coffee shop and then stopped.

I figured there must be a reason for them
to go to all this trouble. I stood there,
in my pajamas and my soggy socks and
ever-changing bouquet of flowers,
scratching my head. Finally, I lit
a cigarette. and the flowers kept staring
at me. and then, five minutes later,
I walked back home and put them in
a venetian vase.

dj
11-10-13

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shadow party

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.
I invited my Shadow over for tea––
it showed up about five minutes late, and said it preferred the whiskey.
I opened my closet and let the skeletons out––they were happy to have the tea––
although some of them preferred the whiskey, and quite a few of them
wanted to smoke.

Eventually, all that got sorted out, and everyone was relaxing.
One of the skeletons said, “O.k., that’s it. We’re not going back inside that closet.”
I said, “Fine, I understand. You don’t have to.”
My Shadow was laughing about something.
I said, “What’s so funny?”
It said, “Nothing. Don’t mind me,” and grinned mysteriously, (and annoyingly),
while it finished its second glass of whiskey, and poured itself another.
I glanced at him, but decided not to pry.

I said, “O.k. You probably wonder why I invited you all out to the living room.
It is a living room, after all, and I’d like you to get more comfortable in it.
More comfortable with the concept of living, in general.”

The skeletons were whispering and giggling, pretending to cross their legs and
sit up straight, and act all proper. My Shadow had talked one of them into a game of
backgammon, and kept doubling the cube and rolling Elevens.
No one seemed to be listening, or even very interested in what I had to say.

I decided to pour myself a glass of whiskey, and, yes, to light a cigarette.
From the looks of things, it was going to be a long night.

(to be continued, perhaps). . . .
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