david jewell poet

words. photos. images. whatnot.

nothing

I know nothing––

I have lived in its house for many years.

I have floated in its starless infinite liquid black ink with no compass and

no clue where I might be drifting, or if I am in motion at all.

I know nothing––

its sense of humor at unlikely times,

it’s sudden bursts of brilliance and peace,

its terors and night-sweats and lack of light that is darker then space,

darkness-beyond-darkness that takes you to the highway in the rain,

makes you want to live again,

makes you want to roll the dice with your one last gasp,

your last arbitrary wish, your last lucky penny,

roll the dice as you are falling

even if you may never see them land,

or know if they’ll come up lucky 7, or snake-eyes, or craps,

even if you know you may never know

anything.

dj

11-7-15

mr. shadow

.

let your shadow do the walking

little horse race

let your shadow do the talking

mr. not-much-to-say

let your shadow take the hit

everything goes right through him

he don’t care

he so very flexible

on rocks, on water

stretched out at sunset

and sunrise,

he always changing every which way

depending where the light is coming from…

or how many lights are on…

or, like a flash.

and when you play with him

and dance with him

and pose for pictures with him,

he don’t mind all that.

he is changeable.

he don’t pretend he’s only one person.

he don’t pretend to have so much substance.

he knows he can’t hold onto anything.

he knows he’ll disappear when the lights go out.

rain

.

rain erase me and clean my face as i stare into the sky as you fall.

rain come find me and bring your clouds the sun is burning into my skull.

rain let me taste you let me drink you and become you carry me with you to the sea.

rain help me call you help me see you and dance with you , your tiny drops all over me.

rain my sweet sister , my brother , my mister , my mama , my saviour , my disaster.

rain. yes. welcome. welcome sweet rain. it has been so long. my skin needs you.

rain come again and stay a little longer and wash me away and bring me back in

from the rain.

nada dada improv

.

now inside the thunder whispers of another room.

disjointed arabesque of mountainous fortitudes.

wallover sychophants like Houdini penumbra.

whichever way upside-down space is everywhere.

fire burns always since time began counting.

everyone loves a disguise when running from the law but

no one can run from the silver lined epiphany of our deliverance.

dj

10-11-15

(senseless maybe? i had to look up

half the words after I’d written them to

see what they meant, or fit, or get a clue

to what I was talking about, but, I’m not

sure I did… but I’m not sure I didn’t either).

outside in the dark

morning is blooming again.

my sleep is fitful

and strange.

why isn’t it friendlier––

it is so restless . . .

where does it want to be?

.

IMG_0184

october mood

october mood . how many bubbles exploding on this sleepy day expanding

chilly and grey (a real october) / and the surface of things is reflection

it goes back /  it goes behind / it goes forward

into unknown crevices and surprises /

sometimes like a lightbulb / it is gone all at once /

meloncholy ambulance of thought careening down a rain soaked street (in the middle of night a weary passenger in the back  (on oxygen)  (passed out) then fading in (then passed out))

eyelids like translucent curtains of blood (barely separating inner from outer)

behind the screen / backstage / busy people wonder how to finish the show /

the lead player fainted / in the middle of act one /

––in the audience / a jittery impatience / while thoughts of a wasted evening / (and a monetary refund) / and their own mortality invades them.

route 66. santa rosa, new mexico. october 2013

rte 66 shadow

horse

.

horse was evaporating in the middle of the sun.

horse was thirsty, and missed running over the hills,

then going full gallop over the flatland.

horse was remembering,

or trying to––he felt the rain like a prayer.

horse was daydreaming (still evaporating),

a metallic mosquito bit his neck, but instead of

drawing out his blood, it poured something into him . . .

and then horse was galloping into the center of the sun,

feeling the fire wash him of his pain, running into the center

of white-hot heat, where he went supernova

and was finally himself.

beautiful vanishing ghost of memory horizon sunlight fading to red then dark

beauty of wave tension crest yearning finally breaks down the whitewater roaring

like rhinocerous charging at a semi-truck on a two lane highway outside of Dodge

City. (not a lot of beauty in Dodge City… which is a good reason to get the hell

out of Dodge). Beauty thunderous whispering inside ear turn toward fire light see

something like epiphany or salvation like the memory of where you really are.

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