hope is the thing with feathers
despair is the thing with scales
i am the watermelon man
reduced to a slick white rind
my seeds swallowed on accident
or spit into the street
for angels to pick and peck at
eli, eli, i’ve been thinking
some days the color leaches
out of everything
some days the everything
tastes of pine resin
and trail dust
if you swallow a watermelon seed
one will grow in your belly
and then what will you do
always feed them to the angels
with the oil slicks around their necks
i’ve been thinking
It’s still National Poetry Writing Month!
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20 thoughts on “untitled (20170413)”
Reblogged this on The Perilous Reading Society and commented:
Maybe I’ll never post anything again so I can keep this at the top of my page. Crow, you kill me.
Ha! That’s quite the compliment, my friend. Thank you so much. But please, keep writing.
Been writing all day. But for now I just want your work at the top of my page. Love ya work, babe.
Thanks so much. Really happy that I could grace your page.
Me too, babe 🎶
Well this one hits me hard. (K)
I’m glad I could connect with you. Thanks for saying so.
As you’ve been thinking, thinking can lead to surprising places, like off the wall. Free, that’s the word for it.
I can’t even get on the wall.
My watermelon, why have you forsaken me?
Something like that.
Father – why have you watermeloned me?
King of the Juice?
Ok, going to hell for that one.
Hahaha! It was worth it! See you there!
What a piece Mr Man
Rainbows and oil slicks
I’ll have what you’ve been eating
As Sheldon Always
Last night it was carnitas, guacamole, and side of too much self-reflection.
Good Friday is a little better now.
Thank you.What a nice thing to to say.
Angels can be annoying; especially disguised as pigeons. Crows are demons — way too cool to be holy. Excellent poem.
Thanks. The more I think about angels, the less I want to hear whatever news they’re bringing. They can stick to eating seeds.
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